poemimage

Where text meets image. Where the visual intersects the literary. Often posting 1st drafts and editing in (almost) real time.

Tag: smoke

Laundromat: July 10, 9:47 AM

laundromat 1

laundromat final

I’m in the

laundromat

because my dryer broke

and this radio is too loud

and every song sounds insincere –

finally Annie Lennox and

the Eurythmics are singing

Talk to Me.

laundromat 2

laundromat 8

I wonder when I’ll ever

get around to reading

Ulysses.

laundromat z

The radiator is painted

an almost indescribable

shade of turquoise.

Lively but dead serious –

mechanical.

laundromat 26

The top of each rib protrudes

thin, flat and sharp.

I can imagine these edges

pressing into my face

after they arrest me in the

grand sweep.

laundromat rinse

laundromat horizon

Harnesses and 19th century

contraptions hoisting the radiator

above prisoners strapped to beds.

Thirty full seconds for each

inmate.

What if they decide to heat them?

laundromat y

Loud sirens nearby.

A city wind blowing

through the open door.

laundromat new alchemy

A guy reading a

book asks me

if I smell

cigarette smoke.

laundromat 8

“No.”

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OPEN STUDIO AT THE ARTISTS COLONY by Nancy Kline

NK 2

VCCA, February 14, 2009

NK4

The visual artist in the studio next door is knitting stainless steel and silk. She’s disabused now, she makes prints of clothes unraveling. A dark skein stained. She’s knitting up the sleeve of care.

NK 3

Electric ukelele down the hall! A white piano plays itself (we all do, here). It has no hands. The trombone-player has composed a piece starring an interstellar Po’ Boy. He slides us along. He sings us a valentine.

newnksunset

 I’m writing flash about my mother, while the writer on the other side of this white wall knits her long narrative of the Great Silk Road.  

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