Friday, February 12, 2016


Usually fruit hangs from a tree.  Or a bush.  A bush being the same thing as a tree.
Except for its size.

Deliberate in its hanging.  Quite luscious against metal.  An urban contemplation of inner & outer
space.  Meditation on soft & hard.  I'm thinking which poems are hard?  Which soft?  & which juicy?
Ode to Solitary Fruit Hanging on Metal, of course.

1 comment:

  1. Smog Test on Portero

    I'm in your old neighborhood
    this cafe could be yours
    but this is a hollow day
    and the grime of the chair
    seems to be in tune with us now
    The lovely lovely complications
    of saying no, and saying yes
    I think of calling you, then don't
    How far away my home base is
    and me without a sticker