I hope all of you had a great Earth Day. The weather here was beautiful. Bright and sunny, more than a little windy to blow clouds away.
The sunset, a huge flower, wilts on the horizon.
Robbed of perfume, a raw smell
wanders the hills, an embarrassing smell,
of nudity, of awkward hours on earth.
If a big man stands softly, his wide arms
gentled at his sides, women dissolve. It is the access
to easy violence that excites them.
The hills are knobbed with hay,
as if they were full of drawers about to be opened.
What could be inside but darkness?
The ground invisible, the toes feel the way,
bumping against unknown objects
like moths in a har, like moths
stubbing themselves out on a lamp.
The women sit in their slips,
scattered upstairs through the houses
like silken buds.
They look in the mirror,
they wish they were other than they are.
Into a few of the rooms go a few of the men,
bringing their mushroomy smell.
The other men loll against the outsides of buildings,
looking up at the stars,
One of them bends down to smell a flower.
There are holes in his face.
- Roo Borson