Sunday, September 18, 2016



Geese speak of winter
on a tadpole-riddled pond;
in the mud chilled tendons stretch.

I crawl to myself each day,
cling to a narrow ledge,
the earth falls away.

She played in the coal scuttle,
taught her doll to swim,
chocolate was a nightmare..

Sunlight cleaves emerald buds,
molecules propagate through me;
a hot wind is rising.

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