Sunday, November 11, 2012

pine cone woodpecker

the oldest and most familiar stockings mean nothing now and
hold nothing. things like, "we met
in the whale's belly" and 

"i thought that wool cap i loved you guinea hen feather."

now all is pine cone woodpecker,
anger fixed like an arrow toward king
and his country,

find yourself to be an outlaw or
a sweetheart submerged in peat

i do not ask questions because
i have too many questions
and no one loves a nail but
we all love slush

alone i am inside an
ornamental bell

or surveying the stop
and drop of a dam

well i say, well
i have no wish to present

to your plummet

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