A Poem by Bill Jansen

7 or 8

slippery dots of light

copied headlights
that glide on the side
of my 94 mazda pickup
parked in a (question) zone
sw 14th & jefferson

another young actress
waits for the 17 bus
on the same corner
looking the look

7 or 8
slippery tears of light
shed by the traffic
that hums the hum
that cannot stop to cry

sun welding the west hills to something

bus shadow

the corner brown and empty
as 1946.




Bill lives in Forest Grove, Oregon. Some of his works has appeared
in The Centrifugal Eye, Cirque, and Asinine Poetry.