Friday, March 23, 2012

Itsnt

The keys to the meadows drew blanks
More for the parking lots to explore
Meandering valleys of dog scratching heads
And post office explosions set pavements atremor
Hoses wrap wings attempting to fly
Nothing but starlings starting to cry
And the deepening meadow of fishes fossils forgot
When time startled all boundaries
Leaning where ever it could
Just before the naps of contrition
Dust settling to dirt
Laughing posts of night
Daytime conclusions
Dreaming of what itsnt so.

Denis Streeter 3/23/12

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