Tuesday, December 9, 2014

On Robert Lowell


Lowell swirled is merely Lowell
But if one kaleidoscopes him
He becomes immense
Not able to keep fragments
From flying off and becoming
Small Lowells of their own.
I put my hand up to catch one

But it slipped through my fingers
Screaming out my window.
The mountains showed little effect
Between the trees and
That throbbing beat
Is my neighbors drinking beer
And drowning out one more day.

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