We are standing at the switch, ready to flick. 52 weeks of Friday Night Lights pinned to the screen… incandescent, glorious. This project has been a creative highlight in my writing career. Together, Ashley, Cindy and I have produced a proliferation of poems and images that speak to each other in a unique way. And it is the unwritten dialogue that has kept the three of us on the edge of our collective seats week in, week out. Checking my inbox on a Saturday morning will no longer be the same… there will be less light. But this project will reappear in other guises… for now, it is time to go back and tinker, reimagine and revel in the glow. Thank you to everyone who has followed this project and commented along the way. Your words have been welcomed and along the way have generated some interesting discussion between the three of us. Now to let the light speak one last time…
The geese have flown early this morning
leaving behind them storm clouds and
the purple of abandonment.
I become as bruised as fallen fruit
and as redundant. Returned from the garden
my thoughts are tenebrous:
the broken spade, crescents of
blood under fingernails, one
large stone t0 hold in the light.
I have spent all my Christmas money.
It was chocolates and electronics,
two hundred thirty-eight thousand miles to the moon
never staked out with surveying pins
but there it is, a known number
almost like your phone number
and no farther than a stick pony can ride
if you got one
ribbonned and ready, under the tree.