Saturday, April 22, 2017

Notebook Crackles: 3




Notebook Crackles: 3

A bullet-pocked 1916 farmhouse
framed by warped-boards...
slow coulee miles from sweet care.

Past where a back door
once swung loose on leather hinges
for neighbors... for a scones 'n coffee welcome,
dead batteries... old tires...
echo of ghost-knuckles tapping
on half a maple breakfast table.

Wild ponies gone...
roping gloves pitched downhill... 
buckskin memory-particles.

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