Idle Fall to the Owl

The Listening Groom, Magritte, 1952

[The Listening Groom, Magritte, 1952]

Idle Fall to the Owl

The bridge mats the lips

and coats rolling pillars reticulate,

slap the first transport.

The pillars never

decline but stay long

into the night, black biscuit-

lumps flail, tending toward

the drunken flip-tick of an owl.

Green plastic reacts to empty clothes

beating on it; whenever they lob, no one of them pops

buttons. A dip and a drone of diesel, clotting

pustules of Christmas way over there,

sedimenting like laps of a forklift blanking

ridges. The farmer finally dismisses

the children who splay apples from branches.

Institutions deform. Eyes cough.

They are almost constipated.

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