Friday, May 23, 2014

5392. GREEN LANE

GREEN LANE
One man dreams of the Anzio Beachhead, another
rolls over in his sleep. The drumming noise in the air
comes from something  -  birds, drums, a woodpecker's
dull head. Green Lane is where I live : everything here
comes in two's. Why I'm not there right now is beyond me.
Distant is but a joke  -  so many ways of looking at things, 
like Stevens and that blackbird again.

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