Friday, October 10, 2014

SECCO

Retire! and rest 
those overripe
throats now
all you—blessed fat

bands 
of little finches!

Charmed 
though 
our cottonbrown

bedraggled sidewalks are—
by 

your catchpenny 
dotted quarter
profusions of chirping;

a thicker pall—
of dull
autumn now calls—for a

somewhat less supple 
frugal black
outline—unaccompanied

of just—once in a windgust
a single 

and 
distant—

desiccated caw. 

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