POETRY
My Town
My town is not old, my town is not young:
an American town, formed for cattle,
named for their crossing, where a rock long-sung
levitates above the creek. Tell-tale
tracks remain now, worn into the limestone
bedrock, a bedding down, the long battle
with time we still fight now, new structures flung
with a quickness, while growing pains rattle
local hearts. My adopted town, my home,
seen as a suburb by those who would roam
out of the city. We are more than that.
History lives here, hidden but intact.
Thus begins my new project for NaNoWriMo! As usual I am ignoring the No portion, since I am no novelist, and making it my own with poetry. I cooked the whole thing up in the past couple of weeks, and made a huge push to get the photographs made before October ended (including yesterday phew).
The project:
- Make a new photography series specifically documenting the places in my town of Round Rock, TX that have the most meaning for me and weave into its history.
