No fog. Nobody on the streets. Behind a shut door, a dog barks. In the yard a Winnebago surrounded by white stones and red rocks, the pattern of strong colors well-defined. Neat but harsh, asymmetrical. No subtle gradations of muted transitions. The arrangement sounds loud, feels like assault. Change should come easier to the eye, be gradual and gray, the rocks still, and still moving. Imperceptible, slow as a river. Retired people must live here, and they don’t want the upkeep, no grass or flowers to tend. They want to be free to pick up and go.
Bring white stones
and rocks the color of clay.
Make a garden of stones,
try to keep green out.
Just try
(in Peaches and Bats 2)
No comments:
Post a Comment