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You Are Home Now


You Are Home Now

Beside the blue water not knowing whether lake or river
Breezes blowing whitecaps listing boats in full sail
Then brought you up on the promontory above the water
Watching from a house with a good staircase, lights
A house among the trees, whether fir or maple,
Watching, waiting, a light rain upon the road
The smooth hiss of tires the car a mild blue
Canopy still down, driver hair wet now, Now
You are the driver coming home; It is your home now
The dream come true a house upon a promontory
Saturated with foliage, a road curving winding
From the bottom where the city is fog covered
In the day but twinkling lights across a narrow gauge

On another day, an evening really, the day turning
To evening, you are dreaming of coming home
Earlier in the day when the sun reflects off
The convertible’s skin, and you are healthy
And not rich, but not poor, and can own
This beautiful car and the house on the hill
And can drive up the steep curving road
Owning part of the hill, dreaming how it was
Earlier in the day when the sun was still hot
But not too hot, and the breeze on your sunburnt
Face, and you are still young and still strong
And not afraid of a lot of things

Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking
Lots with restrained but curved light poles
So you can own the whole hill covered with trees
Where coyotes and raccoons stealthily travel
The steep sides in search of smaller prey
As you continue the lethargic dream
That makes itself wholly out of spun spiderwebs
You dreaming of the little sports car
Starting up the hill going around and around
Dec/19/2013, 2:37 pm Link to this post Send Email to Zakzzz5   Send PM to Zakzzz5
 
Christine98 Profile
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Re: You Are Home Now


hi zak,

This starts out with a dreamy feel, "not knowing whether lake or river," and I can't tell whether the narrator is the person who lives in the house or is imagining what it would be like to be that person or...but it definitely leans towards the latter now that I read it again.

Anyway, I like it a lot, it's hypnotic in the way one line/image merges with the next.

Chris
Dec/21/2013, 9:37 am Link to this post Send Email to Christine98   Send PM to Christine98
 
Bernie01 Profile
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Re: You Are Home Now


Zak---

stay focused, give me the family---think Kennedy's on the lawn.

not urban renewal jargon mixed with nature:

Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking
Lots with restrained but curved light poles
So you can own the whole hill covered with trees
Where coyotes and raccoons stealthily travel
The steep sides in search of smaller prey...



Going Home...catches the yearning, the dreaminess i feel here.


The Odyssey, a poem mainly centers on the Greek hero Odysseus (known as Ulysses in Roman myths) and his journey home after the fall of Troy. It takes Odysseus ten years to reach Ithaca after the ten-year Trojan War.

the modern Ulysses traveling through Dublin to get home.

Kerouac, On the Road.

here is the flawless video of a woman's journey to get with child, as she says.

http://vimeo.com/79579403

a Sarah Jane Sloat poem.

going home, finding something believed lost.


give me the family---the sounds of children swimming; rompers, short pants, white shoes.

yes, even bluewater.

but especially the rocking boat, the temperature of the water's surface;progress less in nautical terms. no promontory---to foreign to the narrator. the old car climbing the hill, yes.


On another day, an evening really, the day turning
To evening, you are dreaming of coming home
Earlier in the day when the sun reflects off
The convertible’s skin, and you are healthy
And not rich, but not poor, and can own
This beautiful car and the house on the hill
And can drive up the steep curving road...


a light rain wetting the face,

Between lips and lips there are cities of ash,...Neruda

The Japanese Nobel winner:

Snow Country, probably the most famous novel of Yasunari Kawabata's classical Japanese novels, is the story of a love affair doomed from the very start.

Set on the snowy, mountainous slopes of Western Japan, Snow Country tells the story of Komako, a hot springs geisha and Shimamura, a wealthy Tokyo dilettante who works as an expert on occidental ballet. The focus of the novel is on three visits to Komako from Shimamura and their changing relationship...


Gatsby absent minded as he shows his collection of never worn shirts---


Recovering himself in a minute he opened for us two hulking patent cabinets which held his massed suits and dressing-gowns and ties, and his shirts, piled like bricks in stacks a dozen high.

“I’ve got a man in England who buys me clothes. He sends over a selection of things at the beginning of each season, spring and fall.”

He took out a pile of shirts and began throwing them, one by one, before us, shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel, which lost their folds as they fell and covered the table in many-colored disarray. While we admired he brought more and the soft rich heap mounted higher — shirts with stripes and scrolls and plaids in coral and apple-green and lavender and faint orange, and monograms of Indian blue. Suddenly, with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily.


“They’re such beautiful shirts,” she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. “It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such — such beautiful shirts before.”

objects and scenes used to create a sense of atmosphere and mood.

two quotes from Durrell:


quote:

1. Here we so often met. There was a little
coloured stall in summer with slices of water-melon and the vivid water-
ices she liked to eat. She would come a few minutes late of course —
fresh perhaps from some assignation in a darkened room, from which I
avert my mind; but so fresh, so young, the open petal of the mouth that
fell upon mine like an unslaked summer.

2. At night when the wind roars and the child sleeps quietly in its
wooden cot by the echoing chimney-piece I light a lamp and walk about,thinking of my friends...







bernie






Last edited by Bernie01, Dec/23/2013, 8:25 am


---
Fall

Bob Grenier: the leaves / falling / out of the / water by the / table
Dec/23/2013, 7:55 am Link to this post Send Email to Bernie01   Send PM to Bernie01 Blog
 
Zakzzz5 Profile
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Re: You Are Home Now


Bernie,

Thanks for reading and commenting. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, though. It might be the weather here. Dark and overcast. Or it might be I stayed up late the other night to watch a fight on the tube (toob?). Boob tube? Anyway, I will come back to this when I feel better. Zak
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Re: You Are Home Now


Chris,

Thanks for the comments. I think we are all a part of every poem we write, whether it is a yearning, a retelling, or a spontaneous thing. Maybe. Later gator. Zak

quote:

Christine98 wrote:

hi zak,

This starts out with a dreamy feel, "not knowing whether lake or river," and I can't tell whether the narrator is the person who lives in the house or is imagining what it would be like to be that person or...but it definitely leans towards the latter now that I read it again.

Anyway, I like it a lot, it's hypnotic in the way one line/image merges with the next.

Chris



Dec/30/2013, 11:32 am Link to this post Send Email to Zakzzz5   Send PM to Zakzzz5
 
arkava Profile
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Re: You Are Home Now


Hey Zak,

Line 3 started out bothering me . That brought. was a verb for breezes or at least could be took a second look. I think what works here or is at work here are the next to disembodied memories. They seem more real that way. Without a narrator looking back and pumping his arms and legs full of torpid memories . The vagueness makes it a more believable if (arguably) less entertaining/ moody (?) memory than any degree of detail. The narrator seems to be in a number of roles. I also liked the repeated structure in S3 (not/not/ but). That sports car. Have I seen it ad fallen inlove with it before or is this deja vu? But my love is true.

Yrs
Arka
.





quote:

Zakzzz5 wrote





You Are Home Now

Beside the blue water not knowing whether lake or river
Breezes blowing whitecaps listing boats in full sail
Then brought you up on the promontory above the water
Watching from a house with a good staircase, lights
A house among the trees, whether fir or maple,
Watching, waiting, a light rain upon the road
The smooth hiss of tires the car a mild blue
Canopy still down, driver hair wet now, Now
You are the driver coming home; It is your home now
The dream come true a house upon a promontory
Saturated with foliage, a road curving winding
From the bottom where the city is fog covered
In the day but twinkling lights across a narrow gauge

On another day, an evening really, the day turning
To evening, you are dreaming of coming home
Earlier in the day when the sun reflects off
The convertible’s skin, and you are healthy
And not rich, but not poor, and can own
This beautiful car and the house on the hill
And can drive up the steep curving road
Owning part of the hill, dreaming how it was
Earlier in the day when the sun was still hot
But not too hot, and the breeze on your sunburnt
Face, and you are still young and still strong
And not afraid of a lot of things

Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking
Lots with restrained but curved light poles
So you can own the whole hill covered with trees
Where coyotes and raccoons stealthily travel
The steep sides in search of smaller prey
As you continue the lethargic dream
That makes itself wholly out of spun spiderwebs
You dreaming of the little sports car
Starting up the hill going around and around





Last edited by arkava, Jan/3/2014, 12:09 pm
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queenfisher Profile
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Re: You Are Home Now


zak

a wonderful write!

love the picture you paint here:

A house among the trees, whether fir or maple,
Watching, waiting, a light rain upon the road
The smooth hiss of tires the car a mild blue
Canopy still down, driver hair wet now, Now
You are the driver coming home; It is your home now
The dream come true a house upon a promontory
Saturated with foliage, a road curving winding
From the bottom where the city is fog covered
In the day but twinkling lights across a narrow gauge

like the way the dream like state turns around & around like the little sports car!

& this here is exactly what's happening:

Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking

Jan/8/2014, 2:53 am Link to this post Send Email to queenfisher   Send PM to queenfisher Blog
 
Katlin Profile
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Re: You Are Home Now


Hi Zak,

I’ve come back to this poem many times since you first posted it. I like the way the title flows into the first line, and I love the sound and movement in the second line. What follows could be a mix of dreams, imagination and/or memory. It’s hard to pin down the exact sequence of events as that “not knowing” in L1 forewarns. The sense I get in the poem is that fiction/fantasy and fact/reality all blend together.

I also like the way the poem shifts in the final stanza to encompass commerce and coyotes. It's in this stanza I really notice the poem contains underlying themes concerned with pleasure, privilege, and ambition (or the lack thereof). These themes are not presented in a didactic way, which allows the reader plenty of room maneuver.

It’s effective the way you bring the shadow of certain things into the poem by stating the opposite. For example, “and you are still young and still strong/And not afraid of a lot of things”. In other ways, too, the poem is not without hard edges. For example, the irony expressed in these fine lines:

Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking
Lots with restrained but curved light poles

Definitely an interesting, enjoyable read.
Jan/8/2014, 1:15 pm Link to this post Send Email to Katlin   Send PM to Katlin
 
Zakzzz5 Profile
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Re: You Are Home Now


arka, Yes, the narrator has a number of roles. As I see it he is in the past, his childhood impressions, memories, dreams, and he is in the present, and in a present that is part of an imagined future. Possibly. Something like that. Not sure how to handle your point about "brought" yet, except that I simply was moving the image or feeling around like a giant hand, as we can do more quickly in poetry than in prose. Or so we are suppose to believe. Thanks. Zak

quote:

arkava wrote:

Hey Zak,

Line 3 started out bothering me . That brought. was a verb for breezes or at least could be took a second look. I think what works here or is at work here are the next to disembodied memories. They seem more real that way. Without a narrator looking back and pumping his arms and legs full of torpid memories . The vagueness makes it a more believable if (arguably) less entertaining/ moody (?) memory than any degree of detail. The narrator seems to be in a number of roles. I also liked the repeated structure in S3 (not/not/ but). That sports car. Have I seen it ad fallen inlove with it before or is this deja vu? But my love is true.

Yrs
Arka
.





quote:

Zakzzz5 wrote





You Are Home Now

Beside the blue water not knowing whether lake or river
Breezes blowing whitecaps listing boats in full sail
Then brought you up on the promontory above the water
Watching from a house with a good staircase, lights
A house among the trees, whether fir or maple,
Watching, waiting, a light rain upon the road
The smooth hiss of tires the car a mild blue
Canopy still down, driver hair wet now, Now
You are the driver coming home; It is your home now
The dream come true a house upon a promontory
Saturated with foliage, a road curving winding
From the bottom where the city is fog covered
In the day but twinkling lights across a narrow gauge

On another day, an evening really, the day turning
To evening, you are dreaming of coming home
Earlier in the day when the sun reflects off
The convertible’s skin, and you are healthy
And not rich, but not poor, and can own
This beautiful car and the house on the hill
And can drive up the steep curving road
Owning part of the hill, dreaming how it was
Earlier in the day when the sun was still hot
But not too hot, and the breeze on your sunburnt
Face, and you are still young and still strong
And not afraid of a lot of things

Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking
Lots with restrained but curved light poles
So you can own the whole hill covered with trees
Where coyotes and raccoons stealthily travel
The steep sides in search of smaller prey
As you continue the lethargic dream
That makes itself wholly out of spun spiderwebs
You dreaming of the little sports car
Starting up the hill going around and around






Jan/21/2014, 6:18 am Link to this post Send Email to Zakzzz5   Send PM to Zakzzz5
 
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Re: You Are Home Now


queenfisher, This is an image that was there when I was six and used to walk past this little three foot high hill that would grow weed covered in the summer and grow bare in the winter, just like a small mountain or hill. I wanted to play there, but it was not on our property and I was not allowed there. I imagined a little road there and a little toy car. That wish, and that wish stayed with me. Thanks for your kind comments. Zak

quote:

queenfisher wrote:

zak

a wonderful write!

love the picture you paint here:

A house among the trees, whether fir or maple,
Watching, waiting, a light rain upon the road
The smooth hiss of tires the car a mild blue
Canopy still down, driver hair wet now, Now
You are the driver coming home; It is your home now
The dream come true a house upon a promontory
Saturated with foliage, a road curving winding
From the bottom where the city is fog covered
In the day but twinkling lights across a narrow gauge

like the way the dream like state turns around & around like the little sports car!

& this here is exactly what's happening:

Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking




Jan/21/2014, 6:21 am Link to this post Send Email to Zakzzz5   Send PM to Zakzzz5
 
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Re: You Are Home Now


Katlin, Thank you for a very intelligent and perceptive response. Maybe I'm not stretching myself enough, but this image keeps coming back to me in different forms, in different guises. I guess it's true what they say about poets and writers, that we continue to write the same thing over and over. Maybe variations of it. Was it true for the greats? Shakespeare, for example? Not sure. Anyway, I read all of your remarks, and hopefully absorbed them. Thanks for taking the time. Zak


quote:

Katlin wrote:

Hi Zak,

I’ve come back to this poem many times since you first posted it. I like the way the title flows into the first line, and I love the sound and movement in the second line. What follows could be a mix of dreams, imagination and/or memory. It’s hard to pin down the exact sequence of events as that “not knowing” in L1 forewarns. The sense I get in the poem is that fiction/fantasy and fact/reality all blend together.

I also like the way the poem shifts in the final stanza to encompass commerce and coyotes. It's in this stanza I really notice the poem contains underlying themes concerned with pleasure, privilege, and ambition (or the lack thereof). These themes are not presented in a didactic way, which allows the reader plenty of room maneuver.

It’s effective the way you bring the shadow of certain things into the poem by stating the opposite. For example, “and you are still young and still strong/And not afraid of a lot of things”. In other ways, too, the poem is not without hard edges. For example, the irony expressed in these fine lines:

Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking
Lots with restrained but curved light poles

Definitely an interesting, enjoyable read.



Jan/21/2014, 6:25 am Link to this post Send Email to Zakzzz5   Send PM to Zakzzz5
 
ineese Profile
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Re: You Are Home Now


I think Bernie has given a great input here.

Have you considered 3 line stanzas.



Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking
Lots with restrained but curved light poles
So you can own the whole hill covered with trees
Where coyotes and raccoons stealthily travel
The steep sides in search of smaller prey
As you continue the lethargic dream
That makes itself wholly out of spun spiderwebs
You dreaming of the little sports car
Starting up the hill going around and around


The nature theme did it for me. I think raccoon is misspelled or doesn't need made plural.

Last edited by ineese, Feb/10/2014, 9:17 pm
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Re: You Are Home Now


 Bernie01 wrote:

Zak---

stay focused, give me the family---think Kennedy's on the lawn. [We really do have a signicantly different sensibility. You single out my final stanza for your first thrust. I come from somewhat of a construction background, so this world is in my blood. Not the Kennedy's lawn. The Kennedy's lawn to me is like trying to write about life on Mars. So while I appreciate what you are trying to say, this would not work for me. If your principal statement is about "focus" rather than "Kennedy's lawn" then this makes more sense. However, that construction world that you object to is part and parcel of my world. I'll have to take another look at it again, and maybe come back with more comments. Understand that I am not attacking the reviewer here. I am merely trying to establish a dialogue. I am not being defensive, and so I would hope that you and Ineese would also not become defensive. As I said, I'll look at it again.]

not urban renewal jargon mixed with nature:

Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking
Lots with restrained but curved light poles
So you can own the whole hill covered with trees
Where coyotes and raccoons stealthily travel
The steep sides in search of smaller prey...



Going Home...catches the yearning, the dreaminess i feel here.


The Odyssey, a poem mainly centers on the Greek hero Odysseus (known as Ulysses in Roman myths) and his journey home after the fall of Troy. It takes Odysseus ten years to reach Ithaca after the ten-year Trojan War.

the modern Ulysses traveling through Dublin to get home.

Kerouac, On the Road.
[Bernie, I have a lit degree too. I've read these books, poems. Am familiar. Those are epics. This is a modest little poem.]

here is the flawless video of a woman's journey to get with child, as she says.

http://vimeo.com/79579403

a Sarah Jane Sloat poem.

going home, finding something believed lost.
col=#ff0000][While I find Sloat's poem beautiful, mine is more masculine, and yes, includes the construction references. In it's own right, her poem is beautiful, as is the photography, the film. But in comparison to mine it comes across as "precious." This is not to diminish it's quality, it's to point out the "difference." Mine has a much maligned masculine touch. It's fashionable to malign the masculine these days; and I too abhor Hemingway's killing of defenseless African wild animals, but give us our space (even if we write bad poetry. LOL!][/col]

give me the family---the sounds of children swimming; rompers, short pants, white shoes.
[Bernie, you just don't get it. This is not about the Kennedy's, and this is not about family. You persist in trying to write a different poem instead of critiquing the poem that is before you.]
yes, even bluewater.

but especially the rocking boat, the temperature of the water's surface;progress less in nautical terms. no promontory---to foreign to the narrator. the old car climbing the hill, yes. [You know nothing about the narrator. You think a developer -- which is clearly what this man is -- could not know this word? Are you familiar with the words Faukner places in the mouths, in the minds of rednecks? ps, do you mean "too" where you had "to" in the first instance? A typo?]


On another day, an evening really, the day turning
To evening, you are dreaming of coming home
Earlier in the day when the sun reflects off
The convertible’s skin, and you are healthy
And not rich, but not poor, and can own
This beautiful car and the house on the hill
And can drive up the steep curving road...


a light rain wetting the face,

Between lips and lips there are cities of ash,...Neruda

The Japanese Nobel winner:

Snow Country, probably the most famous novel of Yasunari Kawabata's classical Japanese novels, is the story of a love affair doomed from the very start.

Set on the snowy, mountainous slopes of Western Japan, Snow Country tells the story of Komako, a hot springs geisha and Shimamura, a wealthy Tokyo dilettante who works as an expert on occidental ballet. The focus of the novel is on three visits to Komako from Shimamura and their changing relationship...


Gatsby absent minded as he shows his collection of never worn shirts---


Recovering himself in a minute he opened for us two hulking patent cabinets which held his massed suits and dressing-gowns and ties, and his shirts, piled like bricks in stacks a dozen high.

“I’ve got a man in England who buys me clothes. He sends over a selection of things at the beginning of each season, spring and fall.”

He took out a pile of shirts and began throwing them, one by one, before us, shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel, which lost their folds as they fell and covered the table in many-colored disarray. While we admired he brought more and the soft rich heap mounted higher — shirts with stripes and scrolls and plaids in coral and apple-green and lavender and faint orange, and monograms of Indian blue. Suddenly, with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily.


“They’re such beautiful shirts,” she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. “It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such — such beautiful shirts before.”

objects and scenes used to create a sense of atmosphere and mood.
[You've lost me completely. I see no context with relation to my poem.]
two quotes from Durrell:


quote:

1. Here we so often met. There was a little
coloured stall in summer with slices of water-melon and the vivid water-
ices she liked to eat. She would come a few minutes late of course —
fresh perhaps from some assignation in a darkened room, from which I
avert my mind; but so fresh, so young, the open petal of the mouth that
fell upon mine like an unslaked summer.

2. At night when the wind roars and the child sleeps quietly in its
wooden cot by the echoing chimney-piece I light a lamp and walk about,thinking of my friends...







bernie

[I did sleep for a long time on your comments. So I am not being reflexive. I think we have an honest difference in sensibilities. Oddly, I can appreciate your poetry, but you rarely are able to appreciate mine. But there is nothing necessarily wrong in the universe. The universe at the present seems to swing decidedly in your favor -- note the number of awards you've won. Still, I rule my own little corner of the world, modest and small as it might be. To be fair with you, I have given time for your message to settle in, but I've not really tried to rework the poem yet. If it can be improved, and not condemned, it would probably be done along different lines than you've suggested. We are, after all, after different things aesthetically (????). I can't write like you, and would not dream of attempting it. Thanks much. We'll talk again. With deepest respect, Zak]





Last edited by Zakzzz5, Feb/19/2014, 7:08 am
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Re: You Are Home Now


ineese,

Since I basically disagree with Bernie, I guess I disagree with you. No sense in duplicating my response since your take on it was supportive of his analysis. The only difference is that I'm not as familiar with your poetry yet as I am with his, so I can't respond to our differences in that way. I do appreciate your position though even though I disagree with it. We are adults and can disagree without sending each other to Siberia. The poem may have problems, as I mentioned to Bernie, but I'm not sure my solutions would follow along the lines he suggested. My being who I am, not sure I could travel his prescribed road. Much love, Zak

quote:

ineese wrote:

I think Bernie has given a great input here.

Have you considered 3 line stanzas.



Like playing now at turning abandoned strip malls
Into new ones, hiring companies with bulldozers
And dirt haulers, hauling away the old pavement
To make new and splendid, well-marked parking
Lots with restrained but curved light poles
So you can own the whole hill covered with trees
Where coyotes and raccoons stealthily travel
The steep sides in search of smaller prey
As you continue the lethargic dream
That makes itself wholly out of spun spiderwebs
You dreaming of the little sports car
Starting up the hill going around and around


The nature theme did it for me. I think raccoon is misspelled or doesn't need made plural.



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