Tuesday, March 30, 2010

New Orleans poem


A lone bead snuggles in cracked concrete
as a neighbor says hello
and brushes on a new coat of bright paint,
to give his shutters their trademark glow.

Listen and you'll hear the jumpiest of brass,
which thumps and drives in time,
Yet out of time in this time-warp,
Where all is nostalgic and sublime.

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