Monday, May 26, 2014

I See Your Bruised Knees

I'm done chasing them.
The chicken flock has dropped off
our low limbs and pecked
all the way up past
their free range knoll, out of sight
and whole truth be told,
out of my long hair -
farm fowl brushed and combed on out.

I look for that hole
for you claim there's one
sadly your own in the tall
park grass, all while I'm
sending you scansion,
free verse, stanzas, dreams
and illumined tales, edges
and shoals in deep sea.

‎April ‎9, ‎2014 2:09 PM
Modified May 26, 2014

See Irene's blogpost "falling"

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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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