top of page


I walk on frittered grass


A cast iron sky

Only one jacket worn--

a fool's plan,

But this far out from the door,

I'll labor on.

Skin ruddy

Head down,

Kicking pine cones

In the gutter,

Black bird looms

Perched on a grey tree

Preying as I'm stepping

So I'm watching him

Watch me.

But I shoot back a look

Thru my brooding leer

And lumbering gait

Sending enough negative

Vibrations to the tree bird

That he squawks

As he jumps off and takes flight

Leaving the tree shaking.

30 views0 comments


bottom of page