Plain American Language

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

Monday, November 15, 2010

St. Patrick Duck

Now is when I climb trees,
cerulean sky and oaks and others
of red ochre (once love was
red ochre). Shaded underneath
these feet like roots
are timely footprints meshed into cement--
these are names these are rowboats
twisting around lakes
in Maine and Manitoba
where I am eating chuck steak
repeating again and again solitude,
solitude, solitude, fire, duck
and then am happy in certain
moments of spring.

No comments: