Tuesday, September 15, 2015



salt marshes and swamps make up the marginal
landscape 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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