rik-rat corn pile

Friday, July 15, 2011

poem for a porch.

Her plastic body, filled with dirt
just birthed a baby flower.

The summer sun she bathes upon
gets brighter every hour.

A brittle vessel, filled with seeds
that never feel cool air.

This lucky one, born of a thumb
will wait for solar flares.


  1. that is a wee bit creepy

    in a good way

  2. well, it isn't the first time I've been called creepy in a good way.

  3. yargh. oh, yeah. the poem is written about a dirt filled doll i found in a lake.