Poetry – Page 309

an alike six & five april : pie remind if beauty is an inner heart what’s time

the lift of the hoe, the fit of the haft, the pull of the root true to it, none more

only a bad knee in splints, only the cane & the thorn, the foot of the boot

clearing the instance of thought in a woodland that was over there run amok in hoodlum

‘tho so made of voiceless persuasion, resonance rhymes, perhaps, abrasion