
fallow
even as I beat these keys with my fist / they resist, spring springs back
I groan, hammer the veins in my head / as if effort would suffice
all winter’s rawness: the burnished furrow, the cornstalk wrecks
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fallow
even as I beat these keys with my fist / they resist, spring springs back
I groan, hammer the veins in my head / as if effort would suffice
all winter’s rawness: the burnished furrow, the cornstalk wrecks
(after Charles Simic)
tined from some petrochemical hell / stabbed with it into chook fat
choke my ocean throat / as if Queequeg’s back in the prow
whale-chasing down the swell / 2.3 cents for 200 years