Change, by Kate Copeland
Right now I don’t feel a city in me,
no life in a night without edges, no
night on the Cali-coastline like before.
Some days may show beauty and
some just the fumes,
or high-risers and designer jackets,
really, does he true-ly
live under this sky, and what
does he paint for a living? Structures
I think I need to follow,
fascinatingly complicated, while
under a new-ly occurring moon,
under a one-cloud shout, with shades
on my body, suddenly surrounded
by hot stones, cold feet,
with you in silent city lanes,
a day and age
so far ago, it seems all dream without wooden locks,
so fast forwarded, seems I feel a solar upgrade
to some self, a weather watcher, continuously
observing changing, more and more
episodes to hold on-holding on,
a mass lingering
past hope and dream,
past peace and machines.
Kate Copeland started absorbing stories ever since a little lass. Her love for words led her to teaching & translating, her love for art & water to poetry…please find her pieces @ The Ekphrastic Review (plus Podcast & translations), First Lit.Review-East, GrandLittleThings, The Metaworker, The Weekly/Five South, New Feathers, Poetry Barn, Poetry Distillery a.o. Her recent Insta reads: : https://www.instagram.com/kate.copeland.poems/ Over the years Kate has volunteered at literary festivals and is now assisting Lisa Freedman with Breathe-Read-Write workshops. She was born @ Rotterdam some 53 ages ago and adores housesitting @ the world.
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