"eavestrough" poems
Listening to peculiar strangers gather in the eavestrough;
Coddling the malleable bloom of rooted trees
An immigrant to prosperity cradled by Mercutio.
-Our revels now are ended. These our actors.
Burnt sand swallows the lighthouse where the savage hang,
melancholy-tea and a pulp-fiction spread
dismal characters, behaving bourgeois
-Gather in the eavestrough
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 1:27 AM UTC
my crocuses are frozen
my hyacinths are wilted
my snow drops are still hiding
and my tulips all are stilted
my lawn is buried deeply
my door bell doesn't ring
all of these together are
signs of Canadian spring
lawn all ripped to ratshit
flyers frozen to the fence
*** holes every fifty feet
student residences to rent
icicles on my eavestrough
and the damage that they bring
all of these together are
signs of a Canadian spring.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC