Tuesday, July 24, 2007


prepostery leans vintage-ward
I have supposed indigenous
nutrients bespeak you or
a qualified result emerges

half immersed in limerick
or tall-boy sugarbowl
or something emanative
like the touch clock

blasphemy to wit your shoulder
as a new wood lanky like
and blood blond like
the vantage point this

young full tree may
register in me as though
this has to have been
true again just as morning . . .

No comments: