Monday, August 28, 2006

the nest

there is a harpy nest, come newly to my garden, and there are no
more sparrows, no more clamors from gold and buttery flies, or
scampers, furtive full of laugh, and i can not serve my teas, or fancy

chocolates, and i can not smell the moon's corruption, dancing with
those chattery peonies in our round n round, or scatter dandy treats
to tempt the neighbor lad, for they spy my night diversions, swallow

whole my sleep

or were you dreaming

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