Monday, August 29, 2016

Cherry from the dark sky,
compact traveler, species of blood moon
living in a mask of colorless before
or a shrine of violet bathed hereafter.

Scrapers positioned in a rut
as a smoked and reeking bouquet.
Blueberries whose stems are
a peephole filled with typewriters.
Sword of grass that scratch the iris
of a fallen giant as he slipped
on an ax in the compost heap.

Dragonfly glued to a rooster's head,
moving its wings like the chicken's thought.
A multitude of dead hens
scattered around him like soft
red sacks.  And the porch
lifting off like a saucer
over the long lawn, spilling humans
into an oval-shaped vat
of laundry detergent.

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