Friday, October 27, 2006

cccxxii

I can’t submit it’s
over. Green rain
falling from the sun

takes a nap it’s the
library. Fiery cloud
eats a slick airplane

heart. This poet
puts me to sleep is
why the peanut tree

leans in toward
the spin. Floating
around my empty

head like sunsets,
orange reaches,
runs away like a ballerina.