Sunday, March 08, 2009

month of Sundays

good Lord, if there were ever a day
to lose an hour then it’s today.
maybe yesterday: a dumb, mute post
where I’m still trying to tie the other end
of this long long hammock. laundryline.
prayerflags. a fine mess, actually.

let the worm gear skip
the waterclock sputter
popping cinders, and a carousel of tinctures
and oils. ounces, inches, cartoon octopi

I’ll tell you now. how it all went down, a siphon
one hundred gallons of warm, dawn-colored water.
over this concrete threshold, these steps, and into the brown
leaves, to thaw and awaken the crocus and the chives.


jo said...

I've always really liked the word "hematocrit". It's one that seems to tell you exactly what it means without having to ask. And though I'm not an expert, I like the way you used it here.

eped said...

thanks jo. and I like the new avatar.

T.R. said...

hey I get it mostly sort of I think.