When the sun goes down sails and feathers leave the river. An empty planet burns in the sky as lights come on in the city, and ragged lines collect before the doors open, but you don’t arrive until there’s nothing left but chrome stars flashing from the mikes, the guitars, the drum kit, and you […]
Filed under: George Amabile by akublik Date 21 April, 2011
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In the half dark I watch his lithe figure like muscled smoke, leap from the curb, a shadow-tail’s deft feather balancing his flight under the two ton momentum of my Odyssey van, and when he stops, turns back, there’s almost no time to decide: come down hard on the brake, or trust what he understands […]
Filed under: George Amabile by akublik Date 18 April, 2011
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He brings her flowers, pinched from the widow’s window box, takes her away from her books, her thoughts, to walk in the city at night when the streets are slick with rain, streaking lights from the shops, the chic bars, the traffic, the fountains. She cannot hold him. His face breaks and slides away in […]
Filed under: George Amabile by akublik Date 23 October, 2008
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