The Fence

Cow Fence_Theo Leconte

Modified: Photo | Theo Leconte

hlorophyll pasture
speckled with cow;
the early morning dew
part of me now—
the fence between us thin,
but real.
And then
the moisture and moment
fade into air.
The cattle turn away,
leaving me there—
to face the day.

*[ WSB ].



ut gummy works into the gutty works,
viscous porridge made of grain for horses;
dehusked for musculature steel-cut,
sticking to the ribs rolling in gallop:
a meal filled with milled meal. Oatmeal.

*[ WSB ].

Emily [the Brontë Stones poems]


She stands outside
A book in her hands
“Her name is Cathy”, she says
“I have carried her so far, so far
Along the unmarked road from our graves
I cannot reach this window
Open it, I pray.”
But his window is a door to a lonely world
That longs to play.
Ah Emily. Come in, come in and stay.


Kate Bush


n addition to philosophy,
let us not forget
the calculus and binary
bequeathed by Leibniz,
who proposed a question
that keeps them guessing:
why is there something
rather than nothing ?

*[ WSB ].

All Good Children


One, two, three, four, five, six, seven;
all good children go to heaven.
When you get there, God will say,
“Where’s that book you stole away?”
If you say, “I don’t know”
he will send you down below
where everything is red hot peppers!

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven;
all good children go to heaven.
When you get there, the angels say,
“[schoolname] children, right this way.”


— Anon—

Kids playing jump-rope in the city_ColleenBrowning

Version: Kids playing jump-rope in the city; Colleen Browning

Sleep on This


nsurrection from depths how low?
consultations of martial law
with the guy from MyPillow®:
“F,” the rating of all—
from crack to CEO;
from cracks:
all the A-holes you know.

*[ WSB ].



irflow pipes and
tom-tom drums,
the rhythm becomes

frenzy of cadenza
between the beats of the bar;
the tempo from the tactus
on which the accent rests,
fast and slow the steps
of metered feet:

tango disco
waltzing salsa
jazzy jig
bourrée ballet

the spirit testing limits
almost breaks away.

*[ WSB ].

Sawdust on the Floor

Mr Kite

Version: The Pablo Fanque’s Circus Royal Poster [1843]

A Circus

The big tent buffers the empty skies
that remind of uncertainty and solitude.
Without the hijinks of clowns, wonder dies:

an alternate existence full of disguise.
In seats the gathering folk are glued;
the big tent buffers the immense skies

that swallow the small workaday lives.
Nightly the calliope world is viewed:
Without flaming-hoop tigers, wonder dies,

all the sparkling costumes that mesmerize,
for onlookers thirsty for the magic imbued.
The big tent buffers the empty whys

of sacred grounding or a roll of the dice.
Idling trucks wait for the show to conclude;
without trapeze and high wire, wonder dies.

So the circus goes up for a new town’s eyes;
the humdrum welcomes a gay interlude—
the big tent suffers the endless skies:
without a circus, I wonder what dies ?

*[ WSB ].