sky-blue-prison
prism of spin-back-earth
for fall is the time of damn-dappled,
of drab-drama-ed, of never-liked
the-stubble-field-so-much-as-now
(and soon a roethke-complicated wait-light)
but now, now:
the yellow apples: appley,
crook’d, under the little-
armed tree
as yet un(h)armed by
the loud-littering clouds
slack-backing (back-slacking, slack-sailing) into town
ordered a new cerement
on-line
you look fine, fine! i said-said
to myself
then, like stephan trofimovitch,
i made myself busy:
luckily, all the main characters
lived in my orange house
from room to room then!
corona, corona, i dylaned
as i made my chair, my desk, my bed
i sang (to myself, the most complex of all!)
where-you-been-so-long?
“did you make it love you can hear her”
someone not me wrote to a phone
- Poemed - March 20, 2021
- My Love Sent Me a List - February 14, 2013