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Peter Elliott

Street Art

I don't want to know A car's make or breed
I'm not really concerned About its maximum speed
Just so long As the windows are clean
And the duco is smooth As silken sheen

So I can watch As I do pass
The surroundings reflected In the glass
A curve and a bump Can distort the view
And force you to see The image as new

And if the glass is not thoroughly Uniform
Warped surrealistic patterns There can form
Clouds in the roof Reflected lie
On the bonnet a building Towers into the sky

A car passes by And it can feel
Like a movie moving By on wheels

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Enter Jazz

In the past few weeks
(1995, I think)
A whole field of music
Has knocked on my door.
Jazz has made my acquaintance.
Jazz who has always before
Seemed so stale, so staid,
So stuck in a groove
Sometime back in the thirties,
Jazz now emerges
As the most delightful companion.

I first noticed
My new friend
On the Voice of America,
A sudden lightness of spirit
Lighting up my room
Through the transistor radio.

Then Nancy, Carolyn's mum in Ferny Creek,

[...] Read more

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