Wednesday, October 3, 2007

weekly poem

Steering wheel

On the road I explore an old farm
never leaving the car
I pass a hit doe
she is beautiful

the sliding door of the hayloft
hangs on by a hinge
bits of machinery litter the ground
the grass
a line of birds sit on a wire
all in a line, save a few
who have perched further down

a semi sleeps on the side of the highway

the rows of corn are a card catalog

I never tire of passing fields,
farming fields

three semis pull tractors

rachel weiss

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