Friday, April 3, 2009

Wind and Umbrella


Growing just is a restraining collar
The columns of wonder have fed this resistance
Hope is a rising season a smell of tabloids and
Bowels and countinghouse reason.
The floor full of moon patiently breathing
The first small reading of turning and cleaning
Yesterday’s letters all quite gone insane
Something anything laughing in constipation
Begins time for picking the bees
From the garden.

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