Tuesday, October 29, 2013

new poem

A few frightened maples
& some misplaced birds,
crested jays, I think,

foreground the red house
on the farm where I sit
as the world grows larger,

disturbed at brindled
horses & elderly dogs,
scent of bath soap

on my hands, knowledge
that homecoming is not
returning but acclimation

to what surrounds, denial
of a face in the white sky,
cleaving to an idea,

swath of fallow crops,
last century's last love,
that will not displace

these fallen things.

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