Foggy morning: four quick takes

Dave BontaContemplative

Foggy morning porch. Two blowflies are fucking on my knee.

Foggy July morning: I can’t focus on anything but that one red branch.

Foggy morning, late July. I count the bird songs to see which ones are missing.

Sun through fog: the trees’ shadows stretch half-way to the ground.

Dave Bonta

Learn by heart: tap a gap

Two are fucking
I can’t focus on
Open the trainer

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Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem

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