the reddest of
fro, on tow
& snowshoes
as still, if
only once
o’erstocking,
a cold man
to a green,
as tingling
to sub-limbs,
so wanting
wood, I know
a pink slip
dozens fit
How’s It
no-1 isn’t
1st in line,
checkout
what you will,
recent hand-
set as active
as thatman,
out of service,
shirtless
& no shoes;
small waifs
from house
enclose to him
food & stamp
Wet Shoes
Sue & Julian
planned a cabin,
a canoe to
paddle middlin’
the pristine
predevelopment
surround them,
would they
as retirees
choose seclusion
or drift ashore,
ax & adze
abandoned
to a reverie
Has A Nap To It
what ever on
a dismal day
however, as
a neo-modal-
poetic, albeit
encrypted
elusive rhyme,
to toss a dog
so fetchless,
who should, &
one day he will,
unscramble it
at your feet,
‘tho you sleep
Or Addenda
when no elbow
in your place
considers his,
by second guess
he’s late, &
‘tho a hand,
as clasp in
Grecian key,
confirms comfort
& civility inter–
intro– does he
send a text…
but I suppose
it’s hearsay
ayaladn 