Barbara Blatner
write
pebbles
flowers
tawny
grooved
pine
sky’s blue
flame
I can so young
know
but matter
and later
where ?
stone-driven
mind
limited
by windows’
peculiar
haunted
skies.
what I had
I do too:
lawn
through
thick glass,
big piney
wheeling
sun busy
green fired
grass
by driveway
images
from pages
of child
voluminous
late
keep my
hand
my hand
moving
