The stripes of black
A bar code on dark wood
Chromatic minor chords
And their calming effect
A black cylinder sheared
Resting upon a white cone
Its imagined vertex a distant height
She carries in her hands
Two numbers
Nine and Ninety-Eight
[Originally written July 23, 2003]
Another of my writings from 2003 that I have decided to repost here. This one in particular seems to connect to the present.
Liked the poem and it is cool you found a highway to fit it!