Thursday, May 05, 2005

1630

IN WHICH I TEMPORARILY STOP CREDITING YOU WITH MY THOUGHTS

The only prompt for the mockingbird is sunshine.
The crushed window barks at the slack key guitar,
Traveling in another land you find a kind of club
Where they don't want you out any particular time;
The music expands to fill all the pillbottles

The heart softens, the edge of the cliff
Turns out to be the top of a staircase
Into a valley that has decided to go for spring.