It shines
suffices to say
and is done well
like the soon
to be cut lawns
the terrible gravity
of how we place
our ornaments
drifting seeds
without the mailman's
communicable ginseng
with out the men
who fancied my mother
who said this can happen
from the burning streets
and coffee poured cities
and the sense to picnic
like crumbs about your feet
the famous drop cloth
with the occasional factory bell
ringing against a spiraling background.
1 comment:
I like the lines "the terrible gravity/ of how we place our ornaments" and "the occasional factory bell/ ringing against a spiraling background", but I don't understand the poem itself. Judging from the title, I expected more teething and clawing ... or maybe Clifford, the big red dog.
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