July 13, 2010

silo

bells

in the dark eyes
lowing early grounds

white grasses
sells

as the park flies
owing burly hounds

cracking long
bats in barrels

dug out
of the mounding

morgue, the grain
stored greens

piled high
cry low

wells

Posted by nancy at July 13, 2010 09:19 PM
Comments
after reading this aloud to a local publisher of poetry, he exhaled with certain enthusiasm, "please...read that again." Posted by: greg bliss at July 15, 2010 04:29 PM
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