Monday, July 20, 2015



salmarshes and swamps make up the marginal
landscape like it was a bed of rose colored
grasses, dried for a season, never to mend.

theres no harbor in the nuclear forest; we twist
round the yielding path to avoid madonnas and
child in the web lace decks the boughs. theres
armadillos happening by, and gators of all sizes,
some small as a decent winter scarf.

from great distances i try to make out birds
models, based on size and just how they fly.
a blue heron turns out to be a mature American
bald eagle, cows me and a herd of ibis takes
off from the oaks in chorus; i am jerked awake
by a jewel backed thumb tip sized ancillary
frogs got a pretty narrow existence.

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