Black Ice

broken by black ice

in the pre-dawn hours

hopping along like Cassidy

in the days before television

was in color

rolling around,

playing imaginary pinball

with rink walls

but not an ice rink,

but the kind that's warm

with disco lights flashing

sometimes cryptic descriptions

are necessary to reignite the

dormant ink volcano within

light it up, let it go and let

it melt the black ice called

the black life

and let the prose fall

where it may

Reviews

[Ruth]

This is such a free flow of art...pours thickly on the stains that darkness covers...good to read you today hon :)

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks, Poppy. Long time no see.

[Ruth]

Hope all is ok with you hon? Good to see you :)

[SkinlessFrank]

I smell smoke Ken and see fire too.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks, Frank. It's been awhile. Good to see you again.

[wordman]

black ice,many facets i guess,sounds like a blast from the past

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks, WordMan. Glad to see you again.

[An owl on the moon]

Such a poignant, darkly moving glimpse at life in motion. Your blend of words and phrases simply makes magic.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks a bunch, Craig. Glad to have you by.

[roarke]

heh, maybe ya just need to hit the light switch there, ol' Ken.....

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks, roarke. Kind of hard to navigate those stairs in the dark with only one working leg.