| Poem for Patsy
The wind shifts & it's this side of the house one of the dogs smells fishy. Rain comes straight down the world melts the trees fuzzy houses descending who knows me Let's all stay close. It's really sweet. The lightning strikes again & the world is white. Now the slow drain, like a distant hear it from Bunker Hill the boom of its cannons two hundred years ago, moving further away and the dogs are still scared. One licks the other, one paw on my thigh and it's kind of quiet. May 10th The wall is bleached by light, reddened I'm giving it to you the departing truck billows a sweet seahorn I'm smelling something for instance it's like it got side-swiped the bus sneezes cream, cream me yellow cab under black stripes it's an early cough it's like light wakes you up rhythm, you know rhythm It's my street I swing from left to right It's my job I'm a little tree |