The rim receives
its shape from the tension
of the spokes.
Or rather,
its shape is mirrored
by a shape in strength,
an invisible physic
to resist the ever-present
science of change.
I stood on the rooftop
last night, Jersey City
unfurled like an old man's
story.
And I played
the part of the pages,
holding still just long enough
for something to happen.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
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2 comments:
Nice. I'll trade you a report on today's race for more bicycle inspired poetry...
Sir I really like this, especially the second stanza.
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