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Tyndareus Crushed, by Igor Mitoraj (taken August 2005)

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Even now, I persist in believing that these black marks on white paper bear the greatest significance, that if I keep writing I might be able to catch the rainbow of consciousness in a jar.

Jeffrey Eugenides


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🦋 Poetry from prompts

A parking lot I walk by every morning on my way to work prompted this poem, composed on the way to work this morning and revised on the way home this evening.

Crumpled

Sympathetic gleaming crumpled chassis by the body shop,
I pass her every morning when I'm walking to the train: a shame --
been there two months, I guess she's totalled, looks brand-new...
except for at the front end where her frame is mashed together...
shiny hood is bent in half; bright jet-black paint job powerless
to cover up the damage that's been done.
This parking lot image also had a role to play in shaping my response to Dave Bonta's prompt at today's Morning Porch.

Update -- another use of the parking lot image.

posted evening of Monday, June 20th, 2011
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