Sunday, 11 November 2012

Deep Wood

A cater-

   pillar

      crosses

   & re-

      crosses

   the black-

jack

   oak.



      All morn-

   ing he

winds

   down-

      ward

   with the

sun.

   Until fin-



      ally,

   stones

&

   lichen

      crawl

   with day-

light.

   The



      bright 

   leg

of morn-

   ing

      bristles

        over

    leaf-

fall;



         darkness

disappear-

     ing into

          the mush-

     room’s

slen-

     der

          throat.

*


Al Ortolani