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.


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.