Training With Words
CONCURRENCE
Each day’s terror, almost
a form of boredom—madmen
at the wheel and
stepping on the gas and
the brakes no good—
and each day one,
sometimes two, morning-glories,
faultless, blue, blue sometimes
flecked with magenta, each
lit from within with
the first sunlight.
Denise Levertov
(Once a month or so we’ll feature a new poem selected by Debra Elisa Wöhrmann)
