Wednesday, January 20, 2010

the elbow is an achy machine

four hours of laundering and all the money comes
back to a pocket singing of its handlers

so it went with a new year
and we were blessed and blowsy in our new threads

weather always threatened to break
the calf in its field worried away the grass with its cute
face--distant noises of what would press against
its older head

but this purpose you speak of, this coupling
and trick of light

we bury our heads with frightening sounds
our finger blinds open slowly.

two ducks flap
over each ear
of corn
rows beyond
where the cows are

my house is not
a furrowed thing

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