“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label seasonal worker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seasonal worker. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
Ahora, Flora
Beat-up pick-up
sideboard, plywood
PVC poles hold hoes
and Co. land-scrapers
dirt brown men
burlap bags bulge bulk
fronds flap, waving bye
bougainvillea leaves
the wind in its wake
vined venomous snakes
coil and toil
pushing pedals,
nipped at the bud
the garden view
flowers wild
migrant faces
in full bloom.
Image By Unknown or not provided, taken on California Hwy. c. 1935 (U.S. National Archives and Records Administration) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Half-dozen Mud cakes
Back to wood decks, quarter-size spiders, webs, moss and creatures stirring in the hollow nights Back to no side-walks and skirting into th...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
I have served between eight and twenty-five thousand meals for my family, I make coffee for them more than once per day, equatin...
-
Lies About Love by D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930) We are all liars, because the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow, wherea...