Thursday, January 11, 2007

For Cents

And a depression in the soft

Of currency, managed heads

Beads and discriminated furrows,

The corn in her vestments

Yet to wed, still in the perusal

Of soft sun and somewhere

Else, distant hammering, a concourse

Going up for the righteous to

Watch from. Listen to the wind

For some oohs and aahs,

Crowds of pruning heads a jingle

To the news, anchor of the day

From this equator, torrid sunlight

On crops and crops of money.

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