Press "Enter" to skip to content

Month: May 2010

Chickens dig me

The house stumbles backwards
and seems to sit down hard
mandolins start in the attic and finish in the yard,
in a sweep of pickled 3/4  time
floating over the weeds
where you can’t go barefoot anymore
burnt or just hazy
relaxed or just lazy

The yard collapses inward
like air behind a freight train
offspring piled behind a blown out name or
cradled in the teeth of a dog
started and finished here
in a blister of standard time with no small ambition of
publish or perish
nor nest or nourish