Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Walk in the Woods



Everything
is fashion
after a fashion. Become 
the one
you hate; you
may learn to love
yourself, strange clown
draped in weight.

Become.

Vast forest,
orphan'd hickory trees, 
weeping weak, weary, 
ineffable unease.
Drooping leaves
of glinting glass,
felt sky, then...
stretch of molten grass... 

(Skim along, mean sun.)

Become.

A horn strays on naive night.
Single petal,
a rose...

Become.