Jack Butler

Lights Out

        Iím sitting up late in May in Arkansas.
       
A spider prowls the floor. 

        Iím closing in on what Iím hunting for,
       
a phrase as sweet as music, hard as law. 

        The spider hunts in my synthetic day.
       
His shadow jigs three times his size,

        confusion of blotted Wís.
       
I cannot think of what I meant to say.

 

Kathie George 8.jpg (101367 bytes)

(photo by Kathie George)

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