Monday, June 28, 2010

Poetry Monday


by H. D.

O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.

Fruit cannot drop
through this thick air—
fruit cannot fall into heat
that presses up and blunts
the points of pears
and rounds the grapes.

Cut the heat—
plough through it,
turning it on either side
of your path.


  1. This is perfect for today. I'm sure there is no poem called "Swamp Ass" because that would be appropriate too.

  2. I hope you noticed that I always like to leave the most dignified of comments.