Hwy 24

hwy24 poem collage

© Jill Ensley

Like the first robins of Spring,
Summer signified in the first yellow and white carnival tents,
Collecting and dispersing Chinese gunpowder and smoke, or
Fried fare and pantomimed nostalgia.
To celebrate our clutched victory, our headlong rush,
Down our own dark path

Rickety, transient Ferris wheels in rear-view mirrors,
Framed by pastel twilight, sherbert sunset.
In periphery, a cell phone pulses a rhythmic silent blue, indicating
Alerts and updates, thoughts and validations,
Answered in the fields of fireflies surround.

Endless coal trains, headed South, to the Gulf, off-loaded.
Past sleeping towns, on the outskirts.
Tracks and black dust weaving,
Subtly settling through the North, West, East.
United,
Our penchant for blowing ourselves up.
A bloom of chemistry, of rain, of campfire.

It’s been a week.

-J. Ensley

?plead=please-dont-download-this-or-our-lawyers-wont-let-us-host-audio

Taking back my October, bitches. Nothing ruins my month. Came home from lovely walk, lovely yoga, lovely walk to pry open the paint-sealed windows. Made coffee to go with this playlist and sat by the breeze. The first pumpkin bread of the season is being made. I will paint while watching Fried Green Tomatoes. Later, Barbarella and if my body complies, costuming and sociality.