Monday, April 4, 2011


I hear they grow the lemons here
on trees (stretching/labored) tuned to
major star collision
burnt brown dwarf smile
on 20th and snaking green elevated
highway road cosmic belt going east-west (infinitely)
to ocean towns sleepy and Harrisburg squat buildings
peddling their boring roofs
out behind big Pennsylvania
evergreen constellations,
each sip draining more--

I've fifteen dollars and twenty-three cents worth of groceries
and a few odd blocks to walk
Broad Street at orange night
blessed blue by moony god
spring distance

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