“america in all lower case” by w.r. green

I am not a silent poet

there’s a giant dog in my neighborhood

living under the deck, 4 houses down,

on the right, behind that white picket fence

faded now, but still standing guard.

well i think that’s the house.

i only know because the lady

down the street

told me

about him,

and though she drinks a bit,

well maybe a lot,

she sits by her window

all day

and all night

singing a song not played

on the radio

in ages, not since the radio was

america’s voice,

waiting, for what

she will not say.

she points out to me in her

whiskey hushed tone

the absence of life, in

or around

the overgrown houses

paint peeling, cars melted into the asphalt.

he’s there, she assures me

a cigarette, no filter, bent from the pack,

pointing to no where specific.

we both stand in her yard, watching in vain,

the sun playing tricks

the…

View original post 85 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.