August 19, 2012



An imaginary daughter infers

“This towel, I know, is broken.”

Her imaginary sister says

“It folds just fine, I’m certain.”


The fast truths they’ll fashion

I shouldn’t say “shouldn’t”   but

I should not, say, shield my inner circle but


Ospreys, in droves from all the mangroves,

Will Amass, and ambush..

They’ll waylay for a waygoing eagle.

Ferocious foes.

Perishing eagles most need to go to their mates as

All their instinct, all on their plate,

Until all their will   will bleed best,

Until their blankest slate.



My,  as  your

Achy arching edgings

crycreep in my tip,

I get ideas

I get the idea

Life’s oldest lovely law.



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