The hanging fall sun is
nicked by billboards and weathervanes
and splits, a broken egg yolk
dripping thick golden glaze
on sugar-puff exhalations
warming worn-in bricks and lonely city trees.
----
(I like writing small simple poems about small simple things. Why yes, I am a Hicok/WCW fangirl, how did you know?)
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1 comment:
can a true appreciator of the lingual beauty of william carlos williams really be called a "fangirl?"
lord, i hope not.
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