On the hill, an orchard:
ripening apple trees and bees burrowing
through spilled fruit, ants gutting
furrows through pips and rotten cores.
From the orchard, a city:
spilled bursts of spires and painted walls
guttering haggardly through trees,
patterning massive chemical diagrams.
In the city, a streetlamp:
haphazard spiderwebs dangle in the crook,
the ripening fruit of flies furrowing but
not bursting its tiny spiral patterns.
Monday, May 4, 2009
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