Sunday, March 8

walk

delicious fog and sweet, sweet gloom;
dim sidewalk puddles ripple! reminiscing
of a long-forgotten forested midday dusk,
thick with life.
Earth's sharp half-dark
excites and threatens us: remember Her
nude, unpaved.
gods murmur thunder from afar.

"we jumped foxhole to foxhole" said the bald man
to the college boy with fancy hair; wrinkled splotch
pushed out around one eye. he was serious, his
$4 coffee balanced in a weakened hand: we are walking out,
they are sitting by the door. the boy tries
looking serious. gods murmur thunder from afar.




3/11/09

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