Poem: 107 in Sunland

 

107 in Sunland

 

the sun gnaws on sprinkler-fed lilies.

it pinches ants till they riot,

irascible manic flames.

 

crows gloom the wires,

cursing at the asphalt abacus below,

unheard and irrelevant as they blur 

into its baked onyx.

 

seven jacaranda maidens

ease this hell-tinged town,

drizzling soft flakes 

to glaze the curb ephemeral purple.

 

a fat owl hides

in the crook of one trunk,

skin same as bark,

face more knothole

than the gourmand it will be

 

when night unveils 

its banquet of espionage:

a prosciutto of gophers.

platters of voles.

=================

8/26 ... tweaked last stanza ... again ... 

... in some universe, somewhere in one of its possible worlds, I get this right

7/26 ... trouble trouble... 

6/26 ... tweaked last stanza

8/29/25 .. mods .. can't ever perfect it

6/17/25 flow mods

9/3/24 ... eds..

7/19/24 ... edits for flow and quality