non/fiction and poetry
In the back yard, tiny purple flowers sit quietly below the fat hoods of our clover patch.
They conspire in their dark, for
There are mistakes in the clover: monstrous leaves and four-leaves abound.
In the front yard, behind the driveway, daffodils bob loudly in the sun.
I chalked one on concrete
With a new yellow and an old, broken green.
The effort browned my shoulders and roasted my neck.
I took a blind picture of my art, and when I took it inside to observe in the shade, I saw shadows of sword-fighters and incoming rain.
It did rain, and the clover grew larger and
My model daffodil moved and
Its portrait was washed away, but
The white stripe above my right foot (from crossing my ankles) remained.
Of course. Νε is not poor that has little, but he that desires much :-P
I took a blind picture of my art and when i took it inside to observe in the shade
I saw shadows of sword fighters and incoming rain
gosh I do so enjoy this kinda talk & rhythm
yr very talented I’m thinking
i’d like to come back for another look sometime
thanx