Saturday, April 06, 2019

A sparrow pecking the palm of my hand
as I ride the embankments
green of a heaving river
vines on the singing turf
swamp's root to fur in the air
a diamond helmet in wiry scarves
beaming light through a highway
and an open mailbox
stirring within the money of the dead
brightening shores and heaps
flesh land on its bones of wheat.

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