Someone had been walking through my garden, and I'd started to resent it. I put up a sign that said, Please Walk Elsewhere, but by morning someone had put up a countersign that said, Please Plant Elsewhere. We'd reached an impasse. A few weeks later, another sign appeared: Why Not Just Switch Places? That night I covered the sidewalk in potting soil, transfered my plants and shrubs, and paved over what used to be my flowerbed. I woke up to discover that someone had walked through my new garden.
1 comment:
i like the way the thing becomes the emotion in your poetry. like in performance art the prop becomes the action, your garden becomes the loam of unease in the observer.
thank-you for making this blog with all these new poems - they are a great pleasure, and solace, to me.
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