Sunday, June 26, 2011


[I'm not particularly depressed. Not at all. In fact with parents (long visit) and kids (summer vacation) around I'm happy albeit in a sort of militaristic way (trying to rally the--suddenly doubled--dependents and get things done as close to schedule as possible). The poetry has been all pouty lately though. That I've noticed.]

Holding Folding up both
ends of our conversation:
corners, tablecloth tidy,
put away. Picnic's over.

Flag: surf and sulphur heaven
wave disease, spread pleased
so many tiny, tiny hands march
and halt in veiled fields overhead.


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