April 21, 2009

• Neglected Canvas

  Wheels flow over hot asphalt; decaying to reveal century-old bricks.  Streetlights, hovering precariously over intersections with strident bluebirds fastened to the cords, waver in the hint of an evening breeze.  On the edge of the skyline the exhausted remains of a factory exhumes chalky smoke into the sky, like measured breaths from frozen lungs.  The sky itself is a surreal backdrop to Kansas’ sable-brown terrain; the hazy orange sun sends sweeping plum ribbons heavenward, igniting clouds crimson with coral underbellies and shedding lavender shadows across the plains.  The bluebirds are raised to the evening air by hidden strings, and disappear into the factory’s ashen exhaust.  The smoke lingers over the centuries-worn town like the edge of a canvas that its artist neglected. 

  Will I miss you when I leave; your canvas unfinished but not discarded?

   

  M

   

  • 11:47 pm
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