Acts, Eli Holley

Panhandle Commute 2, 36X48, John Brosio



He’s in a pretty good mood today.
And the leather whispers of alders.
Oh and the frail shadow of a fly.
Oh and nothing.

A blue finger of smoke
crawls from the throat of a coke bottle.

Oh and on her lunch break a woman I know and don’t know rests her wonderful soul
against a dumpster, in the alley, where dandelions burst through cracks
in interactive sunshine,
opening eyes.

They are able to do this
because gravitons absolve smoke.

In some weary dark, the neighborhood afternoon.
Baby spiders crouch in blossoms;
little white crabs.


Eli Holley

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