Sunday, January 12, 2014

American Dream Work

He got angry if he thought
we were bruising
the Golden Delicious--
there was nothing
we could do
to convince him
we had picked carefully
into the wicker Brocktaeschle
pretending they were eggs 
over to the Kiste
others tumbled them
but it was the Amis
at fault clumsy not 
careful not seeming to care.

He worked like a horse
all of his life.  I'm not sure why.

In my dream I send
a rainbow I can't quite manage
then call it back call it something else.

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