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September 27, 2014

POEM: October

The ball was hard hit.

The ball was going to fall on the grass

 

and be a hit.

It was a fair ball.

 

Either way you slice the pie

the pie gets eaten.

 

The other day

a squirrel fell out of a tree

 

and died in the backyard.

He had black fur –

 

some chewed nuts in his mouth.

That’s all there is to his story.

 

The cat gets let out

in the early morning

 

usually round four or five.

He comes in around noon,

 

eats, and goes back out.

His life is pure. He is like Galileo.

He is Galileo.

 

When I come home from work

he is resting on the porch

 

after a day of walking through weeds

and resting in the sun.

 

I turn the radio on.

She is unwrapping some fish.

 

A lemon was cut.

Baseball comes through the radio.