Saturday, November 8, 2014

i am also peeling

i am also peeling

i just woke up sweating to the sound of
hard rain on a cold tin roof in the attic of
a farmhouse just miles frum Eminence

it was 3:33 and i thot why not waken
maken coffee as someone of my ilk may
as i can nap it off later 

after being driven
by the brittling books soybeans make
tanned and hallowed cornstalks yet stand
up tobaccos yellow and viscous vapour like
rumour spreads from its open pages tearing

through the town before the azure skies
drown it all out with open faced cumulo

nimbus i have not seen the bulls but bison

cows graze three farms down and coyotes
weep like a woman having lost the game
of love too many times like clockwork
nightly once the angus quiet down and i
set whatever book from the single crate
i thot i cld not live without and i roll over
inhaling traces of an equally timeless

lovers scent letters hang like pears they

are pink and secret and green and i am
considerably more brown for not taking
them down a spell 

from the sloping
white painted ceiling i am also peeling

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