Tuesday, August 01, 2006

the foxes have holes

and finally after all these wonders
a note folded between stones
and left specifically, reveals only as much
as the tall late afternoon clouds
where Poseidon
stately and foreshortened from below
rides a camel.

then three brothers of ten miles consider thirty more
consider fifty mile mountain and a bag of screws
consider the taste of jackrabbit’s blood and thin urine
and roll up for the night like the rest.

2 comments:

Dainon said...

Yikes! Who wrote that one? The budding granola in me digs it thoroughly.

The Mediocre Gatsby said...

Woah! That was an unexpected turn.