sun
through the syringe—
red red poppy bloom
Author: John Emil Vincent
John Vincent lives in the woods of Massachusetts and dearly wants to adopt a puppy.
The fountain’s too lucid
moon–just inches above
a litter of leaves.
Where are your friends?
You lean over,
the little boy, crumpled.
–Those were my friends.
30
He is young.
He could be younger.
His hands shake.
Even propped on the bar. …
Yet Our Life Is Sweet
Sleepy after the sun
the house is full of light
spilt from our eyes.
Soon our eyes are empty
and we see.