eclipse Posted September 4, 2013 Share Posted September 4, 2013 Seasons are like Russian dolls. Clusteringon a cafe roof pigeons warn of winter'scaravan.A homeless man begins feedingthe birds-Zachariah Pearson's plaque shiversinto life.Stories sally from Pearson's tongue.A monument and pond become a drifterspen and well. Night arrives to reveal flungacross the town signs saying please don't nurturethe homeless. This hobo often eats the fireof indifference. A policeman's eyes arehandcuffed he does not see disappeara moon stolen by the twilight.Sparerooms bridging thorns, broken benches worn asduvets-a flock gathers for Sunday mass. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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