Sunday, November 18, 2012

Feral



On.

On its shelf. A stout
mocha, cobalt, amber 
fray.

Malt grist,
vaporish door.

Flares spitting
at stars, they
cannot win.

Rickety crane
swivels 
round, 
round-round:

waltz time.

Squirrels appreciate
pause, anticipate
dawn: dreams electrically
animate 
feral animal brain.