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Michael Hoffman Jan 2013
Every morning
I feed the mewling cats,
chug my hot instant coffee,
sit at my rickety linoleum kitchen table
and peer hopefully out my thin window,
through the cracks in the glass
beyond the rusted screen
into the acres of wet trainyards and commercial blocks.

There in one non-descript grey building
underneath the watertower
beside the Sheriff's substation
a band of laughing saints
craft delicate malas of lapis
and manzanita windchimes
while diaphonous angels all a-hover
manifest vast verdant grassland prairies,
great ocean waves, sunsets
and spring flowers hidden in rock crannies
where nobody will ever walk,
and they launch grand air balloons
bulging with epiphanies
that may drift my way.
Olivia Ragland Apr 2016
Towns so small
We claim they're ours
Where the boys play ball
Pretty girls are stars

Mama teaches school
Daddy puts 'em hind bars
Kids get up when they fall
Young rebels race their cars

Dreams of escaping
But this is an escape
Don't dare think of leaving
This is our place.
In a watertower's shadow.
PRN Jun 2019
bullets in the cupboard
minimal

linoleum underfoot
physical presence rising from the sofa

tattered paper above the corner sink
mirror blindly displaying a rectangular powdery brick
sugary hue
dialect of finch and live insects
ocher umber imprint on country such as this

haystack light from the window
somber ray of hospitality

boots
denim
watertower
motorcycle

lip curled
arms a strong rust mineral
flecks of gold leaf
he equaled thunder under the proper conditions
he guzzles watermelon with fresh zeal
persuades five hundred dollars on the sly
smells new mexico road grease

every thread of his wardrobe aimed to the shotgun
asphalt

he admires a world rugged and unwavering
hard edged hazy picture
a porch that doesnt creak
landscape blistered by battles

a dog walks the pavement in search of a skull
focused on immortal career
royal and faithful

butterscotch rock formations
blush color scheme
buffalo sandstone
cattails carefully confined in the hillside pond
growing fierce green
hands and knees disappeared for three or four minutes
at twenty feet deep eyes widen
dim recognition
there was an accompanying sensation
familiar
the mud

churn dive and surface
a common phenomenon the man had endured

a reticent paw still walks the side of the road

dominion of stillness centered at spatial crossroads
wispiest clouds
loose stitchery
stops over a particular prairie
she had to rest on the low ridges
balanced on spire

— The End —