Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Poem #4, Four Situations

Why am I suddenly shrunken against the thumb print
of a lake with strong ocean waves.
What is a small section of covered forest
shaded with leaves and trunks like Paul Bunyan's
doing belittling my own arms and legs.

There're the enclaves and spaces
inside a tree trunk, broken into cleverly
and a pinch of sleep hits the eyes
upon seeing such emptiness;
to describe the crackle of pleasure

of observance is killer on the head
like a sunburn on the scalp.

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