AN EVENING IN LJUBJLANA, YUGOSLAVIA
Across the street the sky has red hair
And combs a Siamese cat
A friendly voice is telling about
Clocks wild flowers woodpiles cathedrals
A stout woman loads a pitchfork of silence
on a cart
A girl in blue hoes the rows of quietness
Chickens not confined by commerce to cages
Peck the rain from a pile of hay
Old wooden barns arise out of radiant fields
The light becomes a flock of sheep
The moon is covered by hop vines
And brightened by Sljivovica
Some houses run towards me
Leap into my bones
Duane Locke
Posted over on Sun Oasis
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