VEHICLES by Leonard Gontarek • Cleaver Magazine
VEHICLES by Leonard Gontarek 1 It is a large, pink cloud, spreading and growing larger, soft, and saturating everything this morning. The town, the smoke ejected curled from houses, some of the lights still on, the sycamore limbs, the bowl-shaped park once used for skating, now used for soccer, the day-gray sky this morning, this morning after the darkest night in 500 years. The lit rose of stone paths and outside cats, this morning, the swirl of fire vehicles, the still and shining, dark river. 2 Be a dictator of the landscape. There is less guessing, less anxiety. Leonard Gontarek is the author of five books of poems, including, Déjà vu Diner and He Looked Beyond My Faults and Saw My Needs. His poems have appeared in Poetry Northwest, Field, Poet Lore, Exquisite Corpse, Pool, Volt, Fence, Verse, and The Best American Poetry. He has been nominated five times for … chop! chop! read more!
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