349/365 - 354/365
04.30.11
Reading poetry
backwards— thumbing through the book
on random pages.
•
05.01.11
Sorting through my pills—
five isolated moments—
promote a death-fear.
•
05.02.11
Coiled in a S-shape,
an old lizard warms himself
on a porch sundail.
•
05.03.11
With flaming forked tongues,
the cannas in the backyard
recite their first poems.
•
05.04.11
In the compost heap,
beetles scurry, dig themselves
deeper into muck.
•
05.05.11
Settled as a stone,
caught between two molars,
one rasberry seed.
Delicately provocative.
ReplyDeleteReading poetry backwards is sometimes necessary.
Bless*
Mark