“I would say Pittsburgh softly each time before throwing him up. Whisper Pittsburgh with my mouth against the tiny ear and throw him higher. Pittsburgh and happiness high up. The only way to leave even the smallest trace. So that all his life her son would feel gladness unaccountably when anyone spoke of the ruined city of steel in America. Each time almost remembering something maybe important that got lost.” WayFeelsImportantAmericaRememberLostCitiesSonHigherMouthsEarsTinySpokesThrowingSmallestSteelRuinedGladnessPittsburgh Book:The Great Fires: Poems, 1982-1992 Source: The Great Fires: Poems, 1982-1992
“I call it "pedal magic" and only those who ride know the utter ecstasy of bicycling. Pressing a pedal toward Earth gives flight to my fancy. Every rotation powers my traveling machine toward yet another date with destiny. The breeze clears my senses. The wind blows away my troubles. The sun shines upon my future. Spinning spokes create flashing metal upon an endless path-cycling feels like an infinite spiritual rush. It cleanses my mind. All my troubles fade into joy.” KnowsGivingFeelsMindEarthSpiritualJoyHealingDestinySunPathTroubleMagicWindMachinesInfiniteShiningBlowSensesEndlessFlightFancySpokesEcstasyMetalsFadesBreezeSpinningMy FutureCyclingSun ShinesPedalsRotation Author:Frosty Wooldridge