DEMONSTRATE FOR ME
(ye demon ye)
Beyond the salt of this earth,
where the slowly-river flows,
there are tar-paper shacks by
the edges, where the poor people
manage to go. They have children
and ancient forebears, life-stories:
In the hedges are dreams, by the
willows live their aspirations, and
the fireplace smokes weave from the
chimneys. An old, rutted track runs
up and over the farther ridge.
No comments:
Post a Comment