Tuesday, January 08, 2008


Notes: I wrote this poem in 2000 while living in a very cookie-cutter neighborhood.

I live in the Suburban Hell my brother speaks
so passionately against. Funny how he doesn't live anywhere.

People are separated only by a few brick walls and the uniqueness in their flower beds.
Blackeyed Susans, Peonies,
Zinnias, Marigolds, Goodness Grows Veronica...a purpley
flower that looks more mountains than
mulch born. It's pictured in
Better Homes and Gardens right next to the
Dropmore Catmint, a stunning yellow.
These are supposed to be powerhouse perennials, but basically
it's your choice of what will root: Petunias, Dahlia, Imaptients,
Chrysanthemums, Jasmine, Jonquils.

Well, I won't root.
Not here in the bermuda sod, shot-gun houses
where the only difference between
978 and 984 is the thickness of formality. Please don't
let your yippy mut run through my Miss Lingard Phlox
And Charlotte Lane is not for me because I don't plant.
Especially not the Goblin Blanket Flower.

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