March 21, 2011

Continental Drift by Shaun Gannon

As you drag your luggage through the flung-open door to find some other place in Rialto for the night, find a place where our voices can’t make each others’ neck hairs rise and our eyes won’t roll on reflex, I think of how the rock plates deep beneath our feet grind and punch one another, and how we only know of their existence by their constant conflict and separation.

5 comments:

Matt Margo, said...

I love it. So much significance within an otherwise insignificant moment.

Here is Joe McHugh said...

Nice

ana c. said...

this is so (flex)

Jeremy Bauer said...

Oh, that was nice :)

shaun said...

and our eyes won't roll on re(flex)