Tuesday, May 26, 2020

From my zero-gravity chair,



a garden! where any American friend and curly tree,
spaced between clouds and winds, would love to be

The rabbit known by scent and stride, & one good
twitchy eye is safe for now inside its poor Scotty soul

who's been freed from a raptor's talons as is tree kitten,
with a tractatus heart, limping still idly and slyly by

Aptly a lilac the colour of pierced sides is the crown
the kitten and soul wear in a garden! from where I sit

A wasp, or lost parsley space, remain about the same
like the rose's puff stem bent cruelly toward the ground

Digressions always make skies look narrow, worn to me.
A sigh from a neighboring pug is the only sigh around

Addendum:

They'd gotten into the habit (birds!) of spiking the wind--
predisposed in their favor, any way--& pounding the earth

on which fall all the crooked, muddy, personable seeds
to ever lie 'tween watered rows and some nearby weeds.


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