Crepe myrtle echoes in the yard
Go back, go back
To your filament
To the grain of paper
Where you gather the news
Go back to where the word
Is the figment of dry weather
And the sword streaks
Through the lantana
At the back fence
Where the water tower
And it’s compacted earth
Are a simple division
Against some higher purpose
a muck about with the higher purpose
ReplyDeleteseemed like the thing at the time
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteIt's a beautiful poem, Danny.
ReplyDeleteDanny! This! Yes!
ReplyDeletehow high can your porpoise go?
ReplyDeletethe eternal question.
Delete