Saturday, May 21, 2011

Twoems posted on Twitter March 2011

Near dark, white flowers like lilies glow behind blue railings,
the field too long ungrazed, unwalked.

A quietness then
hands let go, a sigh, a click
radio streams in.

Patrolling his fields
my father counts his cattle
and gathers up rhymes.

Pale face. Deep red lips.
Black balloon skirt. Umbrella.
I stare through the rain.

If we had met then
it would never have lasted.
Timing is all, see.

In a black-walled room
listening to poets reading
I order more drink.

Cannes, diamonds, champagne
eternal youth, sweet breath, kiss.
Hey! Hands off, buster.

My kettle boiling
sounds like wind from a tunnel,
a train screeching in.

The trees hold up their arms in exultation
to the drenching rain.

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