Wednesday, May 23, 2012

prose

I'm sitting under a roof
of scattered tree limbs,
in a dusty, fenced in patch
of Tallahassee grass
with an abandoned ballet
bar on the left
  miniature, faded yellow
chairs scattered by
some giant in a brief
   fit of rage
and old gray-white pipe
flies: butter, fruit, red?
I think it's going to rain

-----------------------

Shrill peep of an
  orange beaked
bird (Cardinal!)
   it nest-led
in a low hanging
branch
too close to childrens'
curious fingers
guarding, not ten
    feet away

-----------------------

sugar ants flock to ice cream
  like little girls flocks to
low
    hanging
         branches.

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