4 p.m. rainA Poem by eglantineBitter roots feast on the under- whites of grass--nibble on the dainty toes no fertilizer has enhanced and no pesticide has enveloped in make-believe or facadic daydreams.
The trees robotically stretch their wooden tongues and lap the techno-rain shed from beating, beat-beating bird-wings. The clouds
are on fire--
we swallow the ash. © 2012 eglantineReviews
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2 Reviews Added on May 9, 2012 Last Updated on September 28, 2012 AuthoreglantineSomewhere SomeplaceAboutI graduated with my B.A. in English (emphasis creative writing) My ultimate goal is to be the U.S. Poet Laureate and to be a college professor of poetry. I'm a wildflower with a poetic soul. I'm als.. more..Writing
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