08-19-2013, 09:28 PM
final version
The unemployment office closes early
and Motor City files for bankruptcy.
The sultry air is heady
with scents of heather, garbage
and sporadic wafts of local weed.
Pigeons and vultures
shrug off cadaverine dreams
to loop the day’s chemtrails.
A glowing Marlboro bounces
on the scorching asphalt.
A rust-infected Mustang charges
a teen mother clad in seasonal
cut-offs, tank-top and flip-flops,
breastfeeding her infant
on a sun-blistered bench.
The anxious mother hurries home
past throngs of skinned knees
and dirty ears, up a gravel drive
where the Ford hisses and spits.
The trailers reflect midday sun
into her tired squint.
Sure enough, he was home
before his lunch was ready.
As night falls, her willowy arms,
mottled purple, labor
with the torn screen door.
Daylight retreats, snuffing out
this inveterate scene
and the forecast of weather
being any different tomorrow.
fog/tec/bena edit 4 Thanks again folks!
----------------------------------
fog/tec edit 3/version3.0
The unemployment office closes early
and Motor City files for bankruptcy.
It’s sultry and the air is heady
with scents of heather, garbage
and sporadic wafts of local weed.
Pigeons and Vultures
shrug off cadaverine dreams
to loop the day’s chemtrails.
A glowing Marlboro
bounces on the scortching asphalt.
A rust-infected Mustang charges
a teen mother clad in seasonal
cut-offs, tank-top and flip-flops,
breastfeeding her infant
on a paint-blistered bench.
The anxious mother hastens home
past throngs of skinned knees
and dirty ears, up a gravel drive
where the Ford hisses and spits
and trailers reflect midday sun
into her tired squint.
Sure enough, he was home,
but his lunch was not ready…
…her willowy arms, mottled purple,
labor with the torn screen door.
Daylight retreats, snuffing out
this inveterate scene
and the forecast of weather
being any different tomorrow.
fog/tec edit 3/version3.0 Thanks again folks!
-----------------------------------
almost version
An unemployment office closes early;
the Motor City files for bankruptcy…
…it’s sultry and the air is heady
with scents of heather and garbage
and sporadic wafts of local weed.
Winged New World scavengers
shrug off cadaverine dreams
to loop the day’s chemtrails.
A glowing Marlboro
bounces on the torrid asphalt.
A rust-infected Mustang charges
a teen mother clad in seasonal
cut-offs, tank-top and flip-flops,
breastfeeding her infant
on a blistered bench.
The anxious mother hastens home
past throngs of skinned knees
and dirty ears, up a gravel drive
where the Ford hisses and spits
and trailers reflect midday sun
into her somnolent squint.
Sure enough, he was home,
but his lunch was not ready…
…her willowy arms, mottled purple,
labor with the torn screen door.
Daylight retreats, snuffing out
this inveterate scene
and the forecast of weather
being any different tomorrow.
-----------------------------------------
fog edit2/version 2.5
An unemployment office closes early;
the Motor City files for bankruptcy…
…it’s sultry and the air is heady
with scents of heather and garbage
and sporadic wafts of local weed.
Winged New World scavengers
shrug off cadaverine dreams
to loop the day’s chemtrails.
A glowing Marlboro
bounces on the torrid asphalt.
A rust-infected Mustang charges
a teen mother clad in seasonal
cut-offs, tank-top and flip-flops,
breastfeeding her infant
on a blistered bench.
The anxious mother hastens home
past throngs of skinned knees
and dirty ears, up a gravel drive
where the Ford hisses and spits
and trailers reflect midday sun
into her somnolent squint.
Sure enough, he was home,
but his lunch was not ready…
…her willowy arms, mottled purple,
labor with the torn screen door.
Daylight retreats, snuffing out
this inveterate theme
and the forecast of climes
being any different tomorrow.
-------------------------------------------------------------
(This poem is not making editorial on or stereotyping the Mid-West.
This scenario is universal. It was Detroit filing for bankruptcy
that prompted the title and venue. Remember, the poem is not the poet.)
--------------------------------------------------------------
fog/edit version 2.5 Thank you!
The unemployment office closes early
and Motor City files for bankruptcy.
The sultry air is heady
with scents of heather, garbage
and sporadic wafts of local weed.
Pigeons and vultures
shrug off cadaverine dreams
to loop the day’s chemtrails.
A glowing Marlboro bounces
on the scorching asphalt.
A rust-infected Mustang charges
a teen mother clad in seasonal
cut-offs, tank-top and flip-flops,
breastfeeding her infant
on a sun-blistered bench.
The anxious mother hurries home
past throngs of skinned knees
and dirty ears, up a gravel drive
where the Ford hisses and spits.
The trailers reflect midday sun
into her tired squint.
Sure enough, he was home
before his lunch was ready.
As night falls, her willowy arms,
mottled purple, labor
with the torn screen door.
Daylight retreats, snuffing out
this inveterate scene
and the forecast of weather
being any different tomorrow.
fog/tec/bena edit 4 Thanks again folks!
----------------------------------
fog/tec edit 3/version3.0
The unemployment office closes early
and Motor City files for bankruptcy.
It’s sultry and the air is heady
with scents of heather, garbage
and sporadic wafts of local weed.
Pigeons and Vultures
shrug off cadaverine dreams
to loop the day’s chemtrails.
A glowing Marlboro
bounces on the scortching asphalt.
A rust-infected Mustang charges
a teen mother clad in seasonal
cut-offs, tank-top and flip-flops,
breastfeeding her infant
on a paint-blistered bench.
The anxious mother hastens home
past throngs of skinned knees
and dirty ears, up a gravel drive
where the Ford hisses and spits
and trailers reflect midday sun
into her tired squint.
Sure enough, he was home,
but his lunch was not ready…
…her willowy arms, mottled purple,
labor with the torn screen door.
Daylight retreats, snuffing out
this inveterate scene
and the forecast of weather
being any different tomorrow.
fog/tec edit 3/version3.0 Thanks again folks!
-----------------------------------
almost version
An unemployment office closes early;
the Motor City files for bankruptcy…
…it’s sultry and the air is heady
with scents of heather and garbage
and sporadic wafts of local weed.
Winged New World scavengers
shrug off cadaverine dreams
to loop the day’s chemtrails.
A glowing Marlboro
bounces on the torrid asphalt.
A rust-infected Mustang charges
a teen mother clad in seasonal
cut-offs, tank-top and flip-flops,
breastfeeding her infant
on a blistered bench.
The anxious mother hastens home
past throngs of skinned knees
and dirty ears, up a gravel drive
where the Ford hisses and spits
and trailers reflect midday sun
into her somnolent squint.
Sure enough, he was home,
but his lunch was not ready…
…her willowy arms, mottled purple,
labor with the torn screen door.
Daylight retreats, snuffing out
this inveterate scene
and the forecast of weather
being any different tomorrow.
-----------------------------------------
fog edit2/version 2.5
An unemployment office closes early;
the Motor City files for bankruptcy…
…it’s sultry and the air is heady
with scents of heather and garbage
and sporadic wafts of local weed.
Winged New World scavengers
shrug off cadaverine dreams
to loop the day’s chemtrails.
A glowing Marlboro
bounces on the torrid asphalt.
A rust-infected Mustang charges
a teen mother clad in seasonal
cut-offs, tank-top and flip-flops,
breastfeeding her infant
on a blistered bench.
The anxious mother hastens home
past throngs of skinned knees
and dirty ears, up a gravel drive
where the Ford hisses and spits
and trailers reflect midday sun
into her somnolent squint.
Sure enough, he was home,
but his lunch was not ready…
…her willowy arms, mottled purple,
labor with the torn screen door.
Daylight retreats, snuffing out
this inveterate theme
and the forecast of climes
being any different tomorrow.
-------------------------------------------------------------
(This poem is not making editorial on or stereotyping the Mid-West.
This scenario is universal. It was Detroit filing for bankruptcy
that prompted the title and venue. Remember, the poem is not the poet.)
--------------------------------------------------------------
fog/edit version 2.5 Thank you!
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris