down along the blade

yellow rain guage
fastened to mailbox
filled just up to the 1″ mark
overnight
_______
the dust masks with filters
that cynthia and i don,
deep blue,
in the hazey wood particle mist
of the woodshop
_______
cynthia and i as two characters
like the kinds of characters who ride one of those handpump railroad carts
in cartoons
as we team up walking the desk top planks
down along the blade of the floor planer
_______
the video i click on because my niece just posted it
and the shock and deep bodyreaction i get in response to the footage of syrian civillians
convulsing, their limp/rigid bodies, towards their deaths
and some, young rubbery-bodied children
being scooped and carried by medics and
sprayed off with water
sarin (a nerve gas chemical) is suspected
and forces loyal to syria’s leader are also suspected
and there is a fourteen year old boy in a clinic who says he doesn’t know
if any of his family survived

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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