Machines

my memories hold machines the wall lighting up as a car cruised by our house and i was happy high up a buzzing plane in the hot empty blueness motors sputtering on lakes the long car journeys to the city school with car rugs the big orange busses leaning around corners or to the rolling hills those old ironing machines for sheets -

are machines romantic after all? I've wanted them to disappear dissolve to feel the good rough smells of earth unpaved for cars murderers of silence of green vibrant depths of healing life

but they are intertwined even in leaves and rivers in my longings merged and mellowed in what seemed almighty life fragile to steel which softens in nostalgia