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Right down the shocked street with a
                                              siren-blast
That sends all else skittering to the
                                                       curb,
Redness, brass, ladders and hats hurl
                                                       past,
     Blurring to sheer verb,

Shift at the corner into uproarious gear
And make it around the turn in a squall
                                              of traction,
The headlong bell maintaining sure and
                                                      clear,
     Thought is degraded action!

Beautiful, heavy, unweary, loud,
                                        obvious thing!
I stand here purged of nuance, my
                                          mind a blank.
All I was brooding upon has taken
                                                      wing,
     And I have you to thank.

As you howl beyond hearing I carry you
                                          into my mind,
Ladders and brass and all, there to
                                                    admire
Your phoenix-red simplicity, enshrined
     In that not extinguished fire.



Submitted by Robert Fish

Added: 30 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 27 May 2012 7:36 AM | Viewed: 8964 times

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