Select Page

“Broken Things”

I champion the broken things:
Old-town busted concrete aprons
In front of renamed stores.
The quiet, soft, lurking decay
Slowly overcoming the catalogs left
On the floor of the abandoned ranch.
This is the straightening of the line:
The gentle, slow return to mean as
“New” and “improved” fade.

I champion the broken things:
The car’s true beauty revealed in rust
And deep corrosion. The once-smooth
lath-and-plaster now murmuring stories
Of love’s regrets and fear of time.
“This is what you always were, but
Better for the journey now.
Awaken and speak: Be healed by
My somber celebration.”

broken things