Thought this was really fantastic, some experiences close to my own (music gigs, "the filth of Boston Harbor") and some that are not (watching someone pulled from a car and flung across a hood "like laundry"), but all rendered bracing, fresh, and urgent, "born of a pure velocity." "Let the sun bleach the bones of words you no longer need."
The latest entry in the changing table poetry series. Unfortunately, as my little one gets bigger, attention in poetry seems to be flagging somewhat, but I shall persevere, and hopefully we'll be done with the changing table before too much longer anyway...