by Craig Kennedy
The gold streetlamp sheds its
pushing sour sunshine to inifinite
uncharted by the small men in the street
unappreciated by the grapefruit moon.
Gregorian chant, burning wood,
the midnight blue river
frozen thick and bittersweet,
congealed near the earthen road.
About the Author:
Craig Kennedy writes poetry and short fiction. He lives in the New York City area.