Friday, March 10, 2017

high lonesome friday evening octet

always that guitar shaped from tear-choked cypress,
always monstera’s open hands reaching past

the glass jar’s lip, always you by the sea in
a photo under the lamp I’ve just switched on,

always two black-streaked plantains nestled in their
bowl with the garlic, always that black-covered

Dao De Jing slanted across Du Fu’s poems,
always a folk song, its echoed train whistle

Jack Hayes
© 2017

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