Buzzing saws dust trees,
windy tubes blow leaves,
clippings on the street,
complete the clean homes.
At high frequencies,
dowstairs tv screens,
not once getting sleep,
ring out constantly.
Pups outside past dark,
will howl, growl, and bark.
Birds with voices sweet,
in morn early tweet.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Racket
at 11:15 AM Labels: near-journal, poem
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