Wednesday, January 9, 2008


no reason left
confusion humming
its own thing
snow sculpted by
wind warms into penguins
bowling pins and jet wings
ice falls from the stone walls
dripping, lapping
painted X marks oak
on death row for a year now
for attempted murder
hurled limbs at bare skulls
in heavy blow
maybe rain later this week
no snow
could lightening with thunder
no tornado
they say it on the radio
watercolor on pond fog
this morning but no turtles
they’re sleeping
wake up while I’m dreaming


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