TTC poetry

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

I was on the subway a few days ago and noticed one of the poetry posters that they regularly feaure. This immediately burned images on my brain, and I could smell dead leaves as if it were winter already. I quickly jotted it down in my Blackberry for later consumption, but missed the name of the poet, unfortunately.

The Hold UpStripped of leaves,
surprised —
the trees
scrape the grey winter sky
with veined brittle arms.

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