Sunday, July 29, 2012


The book you can’t put down
didn’t seduce the reader

The pen may stop
but not the mind belied

by those imagined eyes
that read the script

Scrivel is scribed
on any dirty wall

On every tree trunk
all wide open skies

and the face of each potato
scrubbed clean

and readied for the oven
the message

the nutrient uttered
before it dies

The water drops and dries
and washes colours as it describes

in runnels
the way the reader felt

Grant Duncan 7.7.12


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