Sunday, August 5, 2012

A Poem by Bill Jansen


birds backspace into air
like unto notes played
at cancelled recital of minor sins

surprised men hear they are dead
as daft and missing wrens
re-radiated into sod and sun

swallows chase the wilting hour
that comes to stretch
and yawn after counting the last one.

Bill Jansen lives in Forest Grove, Oregon. Some of his work has appeared in The Centrifugal Eye, Cirque, and Asinine Poetry. Bill Jansen 4 poems, 2012

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