A large blue pimple beat his children with carrots while several aging
conquistadors eulogized a sacrificial rabbit. It’s a disease I can’t appreciate, a color found
only in rest homes, a rabid moon descended from a long line of surprisingly circular
In a desperate world we wouldn’t notice.
Some old tires, a broken couch and a cricket. Life in a clutter. He gave himself
“Just a moment,” the father said, not knowing what he meant and finally meaning
Blossoms before the leaves woke.
A father who is always.
It looked like something someone might do on purpose.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.