Blueprints
Larry Narron Across the street lives a man who’s been building his house for a decade. A staircase spirals around his chimney like the model of a DNA strand that reaches toward the roof he has blueprinted onto a crumpled sky. At night, he burrows a tunnel under the asphalt, dragging his wires through the dark to my yard, pulling them up the side of my trailer to attach to my satellite dish for a thousand free channels. Early one morning, after his footsteps have stomped through my dream & awakened me, I catch him on my roof, crouched like a hawk by the rain gutter, having a cup of coffee, watching the sunlight bleed from a wounded horizon. |
About the author:
Larry Narron is a teaching associate at Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon, where he recently received an MFA in Poetry. A graduate of UC Berkeley, his poems have appeared in Phoebe, Eleven Eleven, Permafrost, Whiskey Island, The Boiler, and other journals. |