Plain American Language

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

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Poem #4, Response

(I forget why I said this was a response...but)

On through an eighty degree night, fact
of warming in the midst of cold April
breeze is blankets, though the sinus headache
and twinging uscles annunciate in my skin
felt hats felt in winter are for tomorrow
newspaper rolls across the street; heat
but the dark of it inside the new
flowers make spring finally here, as if it were
fall but with white instead of fire

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