{"id":1871,"date":"2012-10-22T18:39:26","date_gmt":"2012-10-22T18:39:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=1871"},"modified":"2012-10-22T22:19:01","modified_gmt":"2012-10-22T22:19:01","slug":"matthew-sradeja","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/matthew-sradeja\/","title":{"rendered":"Matthew Sradeja"},"content":{"rendered":"<div><strong>To Toledo\u00a0<\/strong><\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>\nTo packed up memories, to friends separated but, never forgotten<br \/>\nTo Goal Diggers and Sacred Heart Lions<br \/>\nTo winter to high density mercury bright white snow<br \/>\nUnder a silent sun without anything warm to say<br \/>\nAfter school days on small streets where we froze<br \/>\nIn igloos or rolling snow boulders<br \/>\nTo packed up memories<br \/>\nTony Packo\u2019s and the Hungarian festival<br \/>\nAnd The Paris night club<br \/>\nWhere I was king of M &amp; M\u2019s<br \/>\nTo Prangs Candy Store and Deli<br \/>\nAt the corner of Licking Street and Mott Avenue<br \/>\nTo the Union 76 gas station<br \/>\nWhere we could buy worms and head down<br \/>\nTo the banks of the Maumee and catch fish<br \/>\nAnd the orange sign that reminded me of Reece\u2019s pieces<br \/>\nAnd all the poetry venues across the city<br \/>\nAs the years have passed by<br \/>\nTo Sam and Andy\u2019s to Brewed Awakenings<br \/>\nThe Collingwood Arts Center and The Black Kite<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div><strong>Blasted Highway Entanglements<\/strong><\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>Bright lights (laughing in parenthesis)<\/div>\n<div>That is the way words sooth me<\/div>\n<div>And these long rides are amazing<\/div>\n<div>Until I am drowned in a pool of sound<\/div>\n<div>And whip crack light<\/div>\n<div>That dribble drabble across the highway<\/div>\n<div>Such as it is a mother feeds her baby with a spoon<\/div>\n<div>I lose my breath I have to get off<\/div>\n<div>Away from my getting away and cool down<\/div>\n<div>Find a place to stretch out<\/div>\n<div>Where no one thing can keep this imagination down<\/div>\n<div>That is when I find myself in these<\/div>\n<div>Little rubber dust burnt up places<\/div>\n<div>Along the highway that has killed<\/div>\n<div>So many mangled minds before me<\/div>\n<div>A room no less black and white<\/div>\n<div>Than the foggy frames of a dusty<\/div>\n<div>Movie reel from a time long gone<\/div>\n<div>Alone I shape worlds<\/div>\n<div>Intense little images<\/div>\n<div>Animal shaped shadows<\/div>\n<div>On the thin skinned wall<\/div>\n<div>Of another Oswald hotel<\/div>\n<div>Cheesy wallpaper crisp shadows<\/div>\n<div>Peeling away from thoughtless<\/div>\n<div>Landscapes<\/div>\n<div>Shadows projected onto an unkempt mind<\/div>\n<div>From the lamp on the nightstand through<\/div>\n<div>The Carolina smoke of a mad cigarette<\/div>\n<div>When everything is Chinese and cheap<\/div>\n<div>Except for the volume of the neon<\/div>\n<div>Bright lights (laughing in parenthesis)<\/div>\n<div>There\u2019s just no more room left at the inn<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>To Toledo\u00a0 To packed up memories, to friends separated but, never forgotten To Goal Diggers and Sacred Heart Lions To winter to high density mercury bright white snow Under a silent sun without anything warm to say After school days on small streets where we froze In igloos or rolling snow boulders To packed up [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1871","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v24.2 - 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