The shuttered afternoon,
the slow desiccation of an espresso drop
on the countertop, its pep all lost.
Long vowels make this southern.
and the shadows, moist and literary,
secretive and suprascientific.
Marianne would discuss the fauna,
but I'm not gonna. It's enough
to sip this drink and await the flutter.
The shutters open.
The play lets out.
And the captivated once again
condense around
the bright wet points
of late day.
[Another one set in New Orleans from Down Spooky. I'm posting these photos and poems as a way of communicating what I found special about New Orleans and as a sort of prayer that the city will recover eventually. Other words and images to absorb are plentiful right now, but it's helpful to me personally to balance those horrific scenes with others like these.
The rumors circulating about the Red Cross not being able to get into New Orleans have been confirmed by several sources. HOWEVER, they are housing about 95,000 people in about 250 shelters in surrounding areas of Louisiana, Texas, Mississippi, and Alabama, SO DONATIONS ARE STILL HELPING. If you haven't yet, and can afford as little as the $5 minimum donation, please visit redcross.org and ask your company to match it.]
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