Poem by Harry Ricciardi

 

commuting

dark space in the light space
light space in the dark space
like space in the omniscient
the clicking of a bicycle chain
the tic of a pebble against a wheel
the pop of a rock under a tire
cars whooshing by
approximating boulders on journeys along river bottoms
i don’t know where i am
i don’t know what the light is doing
does light turn?
how can a light turn
the way we turn?
i’m going home all day
a mad rush from Chinatown
dust
sandpaper
i see kids in the back of the pickup truck filled with grapes
at the market on North Broadway after i drink my coffee
and i don’t think about them all day
dust
sandpaper
i don’t want to be too tired
to write a poem in bed when i get out of the shower

 

Harry Ricciardi does mostly honest work. Reading David Hinton’s translations of ancient Chinese masters he’s had a bunch of ideas about stuff.

Chad Parenteau is Associate Editor of Oddball Magazine.

 

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