I'm going away for a month and probably won't be posting. In the mean time, you could read Intercapillary Space, or take a wander through my sidebar links, or sample Mark Scroggins' other thinkers...
3 more folkrhyme poems, but I'm in a rush so I'm not indenting them!
beat out more paths when the sun and rain combine
old young men
when the deer in shadow graze
when horses laze, twitching their tails
lay the road flat cold
chase down the sky
get out and, flay the grass
when the wind and night chorus
our men burst borders
when the deer in transports
bulls in sea
made holes-in-my-face, holes-in-my-face
My face is gappy
My face is riddled with empty journeys
I stood there with half a face
Is only a marble, my dear,
Nothing more than a dropped marble in a garden
Resting along the edge of a patio slab!
Only a marble on crumbly soil under a box hedge
Catching the afternoon sun!
And nearby, my dear, the limp, tender cross of a baby willowherb.
And nearby, between the patio slabs,
The leaning ships of annual meadow-grass
Which today are all at once speckled with cream.
I have watched it these ten year
Its eye as clean as when first I came
My dear the worms can't pull that down