Monday, April 20, 2009

i go, slow loping behind you
into sleep,you are a rabbit
and i all jack-scrambling hillbilly
hound all clumsy hurtle and slaver
you have darted to the hillsto the tall
grass and the flushed birds rise and escape
the mundane sour-grape hurtle of shot
you are the slow doe trembling
at the edge of the wood i the head-
lights scraping trees
i am a tangle of fenceline, of wire
i am the treeline of the hedgerow,
you the pheasant eating the rich
corn of dream
i the badger among the mewling kits,
the dog loose
with a rope and peg
around his neck

1 comment:

  1. Your work has edge but is refined...it is great to see the progression. There is mastery in your work which is a joy to observe. I have read you these many days. Reading your work has always challenged me to fight for the words in my own work. I want the work to work. I have no lofty thoughts at this time. I am working this out…hope it makes sense.

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