a rose-cream sunrise
the rattling of a streetcar
through empty stations
a rose-cream sunrise
the rattling of a streetcar
through empty stations
The gentle shudder of a street car
Pulling away,
Or of a woman
Rubbing sleep out of her face:
The promise of warm
In a rose-cream sky
As the sun
Pokes up its first rays.
Scraps of thought
Amongst a turning in my gut,
A pushing, pulling, churning,
Life-giving rawness.
Frida Kahlo
Her monobrowed sexual energy
Losing a tooth in a dream
What did that mean again?
The gaps between the towns are always fun:
The streetcar rattles along
Coiled up
I can only imagine the driver’s face
As she puts her foot down
Pedal to the floor
With an expression like cycling downhill.