Sunday, August 12, 2012

Dog It Stray--by Jeff

Let us consider, then, the methods of poetic endings.

I've been wearing funeral clothes for seven days.

You're dead anyway,
About my disbelief?

Will I tend your garden for you--
Sit with my proverbial shotgun
of wits, means,
ready, taptap, to keep the rabbits
from the lettuce. I am
Perched in your tree which does not exist, suspended

I alone am escaped to tell thee


I alone

am bearer

tell thee

of the garden snake that died

(You don't know me, but
 i will
I will

tear your bedrock up)

Off my memories.

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