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Michael Leddy
Vendler Days
for Marshall Toman
The grey hat on the front step reminded me
of them, you: as it was snowing on my little house,
terrific, and there was much conversation
while undusting the booklist. Sartor Resartus,
check!
Say what you will,
a hello might get lost in the channels,
drop like a cup but surface
unbroken, never too belated. Or belaboured. Where were we?
NO PARKING
for Rob Zseleczky
My pocket reads empty
as doth yours
Snow snow snow That is
all we need on earth
and all we need to know
Empty Headed Blues, Parts One and Two
May starts with butterflies, and your head’s crooked.
Yet here is this Coca-Cola, and a place for it to warm.
Every note of its sandwich looks friendly.
As do the outgoing sidewalks. But not really. For
foods and objects can’t speak or sing.
Their heads are empty, they don’t feel a thing,
which leaves time for the movie
of The Inmates of My Cottage, All at Rest.
*
Everyday numbers, colors, number one, number five, blue five
“…Flex Nib Moan b/w
There’s a Wobble in Your Well Hole”
Someone could be important even if the tape ran out
on porches affectionately with light refreshment
every big Wednesday is yes and no
skipping town to avoid a ruckus
anyone could find the note skipping
Copyright © Michael Leddy