Poem: Walking Shorts | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine

i
I thought he was dead.
Yet here he is, bloodless.
Bloodless.

ii
The androgynous hydrant.
A blue phallus.
With three blue breasts.

iii
I saw the lake.
But I didn’t look at it.
It’s always the same.

iv
I heard a hawk.
All I saw was a whistle.
And a gray cloud.

v
It wasn’t intended.
I wanted a stone.
I found a leaf.

vi
The house.
How big on the outside.
On the inside, how small.


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