windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

Category: poem

doggy style

my master throws me a bone rich with fat. due to my animal nature, i drag it under the porch to suck it clean, forgetting to lick his hand in thanks.

51

almost full, the moon leaps out from between houses drying in the sun

cool

gathering laundry barefoot: high arches, lucky slug slays the giant.

works

meeting his deadline, bach conducts from the organ. the rest is old news.

deposit

this is where we find ourselves: broken reeds gather at the high tide line.