Archives for posts with tag: LA Weekly

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Silver in San Fernando Valley
(fast, shiny and new)

(Excerpt from “Silver: 4 Connotations”)

Poem by Jena Ardell

Two beams
silver headlights
slice through the night sky,
like bullets,
down Mulholland Drive

Lights divide
cutting quadrants
across bedroom walls
before disappearing
into the darkness
quickly
fleeting,
now
careening,
down
Topanga
Cyn.
Blvd.
where partygoers stay awake
’til the stars are swallowed
by the San Fernando Valley fog

that pesters L.A. drivers
Freeway road rage
as sunglasses
slide
across
polished dashboards

tall
wide

SUVs & Hummers
each, only holding
one person

This morning
make-up smears
above
&
below
glassy pupils,
metallic shadow to the brow
(what
was I thinking?)

I walk to the mailbox
in pajamas,
bed head reflection
in shiny numbers

No one will see
me
because no one
does the speed limit

It finally came today
The steak knife
that cuts through a shoe sole
(or at least that’s what
the infomercials say)

I don’t care if it can’t
I just wanted something new

Photo: “Cruising up Mulholland Drive at Dusk” by John Wiseman, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Note: “Silver: 4 Connotations” by Jena Ardell will be included in the upcoming Silver Birch Press anthology entitled Silver. The poem was originally published in LA Weekly, 2/10/12.

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Silver on the 101 (cloudy, unclear)

(Excerpt from Silver: 4 Connotations)

Poem by Jena Ardell

Slinking down the 101
Abrupt stops.
Cherry taillights
explode color
into monotone sky

squinting to see
through silver fog
an infinite amount of steam
sl ug gish ly   sails
into my car
through  open  windows

constant streams
of streetlights
slur into the air
as we
(this fog,  these strangers, myself)

sit in the San Fernando Valley
sedated.
wondering what minuscule detail
will distinguish this day
from the last

Published in L.A. Weekly, 2/10/12, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Photo: Sushmaa, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED