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.

Comments

  1. Delicately provocative.

    Reading poetry backwards is sometimes necessary.

    Bless*

    Mark

    ReplyDelete

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