Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Poetry Wednesday


I changed my name and told
no one.  I
talked to this man, and the milk pond yawned
(like red fruit with white insides
           it opened) and gave no fish.

Annnnnnnnnnnd something not-mine that I love:

by Joshua Beckman

Again the flat world of borrowed things
and the banging of everything that is heavy
into everything else and the cosmos
of the unfeeling is, sadly, just as full
and seeing that is no better
than seeing anything else

                               or the dove crept into its damp
                               little hole or

I know how they treated you
and can do nothing about it.

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