Junkyard -- Week 8

"he evaporated under the twisted tentacles of the sun"
-- i tweaked a line from Kyley's poem

"Gawking at the old man whose feet are khaki with sand cinder.
Hands longing to be coin quenched.
His destitute fingers poke the strings of his Lute made from petrified
wood, torrid cattle skin and gristly goat gair."
-- a line i really liked form a poem i'm working on

""between the trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
of her face, and now she teps into the air, now she is gone
wholly, into the air."

-Beginning by James Wright (p249 in vintage)

"our neighborhood sun-cured..." (Days of 1964 by james Merill)
i thought this little snippet from this poem was interesting. I'm working with some sun imagery in my poem and it seemed to fit pretty well. two thoughts came to mind: 1) the neighborhood is being cleansed by the sun, and 2) it's being aged, kind of like sun dried tomatos.