Wrote this about eighteen months ago, odd to reread it now and see how overly stylized it feels. Needs revising, some factual details I want to fix, and a coda to add. Then I’ll likely submit it to somewhere before the end of the year.
An excerpt from the manuscript I wrote over the summer. Over winter break I plan to revise the entire manuscript, and to adapt this section to work also as a stand-alone short story.
reading Jack Gilbert
mourning his dead wife
the grey sky outside
Continue reading “Poetry : Gilbert & Rome”
November chill hits as the bus pulls away,
Her warmth absent now from my arms,
Tale of one city but two schools.
I pass a group of four hoody’ed guys,
One slurs, “I like all the little shops.”
10 am and already stoned, life on 21st.
Every so often I overhear a conversation so insipid that I have to write about it to get the memory of it out of my brain and somewhere else into the world where it will do less damage. Hopefully less damage. So a very rough poem, inspired by something I needed to process and forget.