570 Readings | 2 Ratings


Beyond the flaming pines
I stood selling melons
Perpendicular to everything I love
Each melon like a note from the Diabelli Variations
Into this smoking dark world

The sky still blue
I flowered above the smoke
My skull turned into paper
Fingers elongated El Greco

Lurch-sailing through a thorny crowd
And home with a truck bed of melons

The driveway at dusk is the real home the home sits next to

On each brown brick a mute brown bird
Struck and still like hammers on strings
As in the white air to every black branch
Art lost, and lost, and lost

Posted 07/18/11
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