Wednesday, October 09, 2013

a freeway

divides
  shadowed farmhouse from red setting sun

parts that which was sold--
  hay-fields where house-trailers for migrants now rust
  creek-beds and knolls foraged for mushrooms

it severs
  the oiled dirt road still traveled in dreams
  the sand-blow where a lone tree towered--
  the maple I climbed as a boy
  to name with a jack-knife
  my first true love

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