Fork
clumped soil into air
& so be obliged to remove
damn stones under loam /
My early lessons from my
Dad
lent me bent to crafts
…/
Fork
clumped soil into air
& so be obliged to remove
damn stones under loam /
My early lessons from my
Dad
lent me bent to crafts
…/
Old lust – our ragged plot
of strangling weeds –
of poisonous shrubs
turn to interleave …/
The Himalayan Balsam’s scent
clogs – a laundry swill of smells –
lingering – invasive – out-of-place –
underlining the call to action …/
The level is still wrong
because the land slopes,
and I used my tired eyes,
not the bubble’s advice…