May 31st

brown brown brown is the color
of the sparrows have
they wave their wings and fluttered air
the string shy brings is the strangest where
the eve is rent and the red silver

grand is big unless its bad
rivers run fast until rapid
the foam it breaks and the rocks disface
the silent bridge under the surfs race

dust is burnt up crust of stuff
the toaster leaves at most the lifes
a thousand ants couldnt move the place
but the branching sun you cant escape

out of the light comes flying sparks
the crickets hawk and the midges hum
a lifetimes passed and still its none
more than a shark its avion