Squirrel Bravery
Squirrel Bravery
A Midwestern summer’s night leaves so much to yearn for. It is the presence of the easily obtainable that distracts necessity. Humidity falsely governs the wheat fields, soy beans, and corn. How dare you come to my backdoor with canned corn and pork-and-beans? The can of corn isn’t even creamed. This is an extreme disappointment and delusional dilemma.
A pleasing thought tonight rests solely on the fact that there is a small black cage hanging from my crab apple tree. The cage is home to mutton cakes that small birds feed on. I request memories from when I used to supply all of the feeders in town with seed. Sunflower seeds, black thistle, and the other kind that sparrows and the like would spit out for mice and chipmunks. Next year grease will coat poles and whatnot to eliminate squirrel bravery.The a.m. transistor warned of a marmot intrusion by way of Chicago. Possibly through bullpens and Indian burial mounds. Down Lakeshore. Burned grass in parts of Grant Park and froze the fountain. Lovers of the Midwest roam disregarded and eager for truth. We’re not from here. They probably aren’t either. My money’s on the Quad Cities
A Midwestern summer’s night leaves so much to yearn for. It is the presence of the easily obtainable that distracts necessity. Humidity falsely governs the wheat fields, soy beans, and corn. How dare you come to my backdoor with canned corn and pork-and-beans? The can of corn isn’t even creamed. This is an extreme disappointment and delusional dilemma.
A pleasing thought tonight rests solely on the fact that there is a small black cage hanging from my crab apple tree. The cage is home to mutton cakes that small birds feed on. I request memories from when I used to supply all of the feeders in town with seed. Sunflower seeds, black thistle, and the other kind that sparrows and the like would spit out for mice and chipmunks. Next year grease will coat poles and whatnot to eliminate squirrel bravery.The a.m. transistor warned of a marmot intrusion by way of Chicago. Possibly through bullpens and Indian burial mounds. Down Lakeshore. Burned grass in parts of Grant Park and froze the fountain. Lovers of the Midwest roam disregarded and eager for truth. We’re not from here. They probably aren’t either. My money’s on the Quad Cities
posted by Neil Kelly at 4:07 PM
1 Comments:
Man, I like this neil. It's wonderful, crazy, full of statements--you are able to make statements in your work that are interesting, breaking the show don't tell rule. I love the diction held up with stilts.
This is a good piece.
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