Handful & Gristle<\/strong><\/p>\n I leave broken crumbs on the snow But it does no good because birds become There\u2019s flesh of course in nipple and breast Closets of kisses with laughter after In the attic packed in acid and grime The hidden treasures are in plain sight, The rent costs your heart, the lease is quite long, And oh, the homemade stew.<\/p>\n ~ Smith<\/p>\n Bees Delight<\/strong><\/p>\n We aprentess, she manages the hive, i keep my head in a bird. ~ Bree<\/p>\n FIN (for now)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Handful & Gristle I leave broken crumbs on the snow to find my way back from the House of Love with its flash of honey and taste of more. But it does no good because birds become love\u2019s agents cleaning…<\/p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1127"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1127"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1127\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1174,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1127\/revisions\/1174"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1127"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1127"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1127"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nto find my way back from the House of Love
\nwith its flash of honey and taste of more.<\/p>\n
\nlove\u2019s agents cleaning scene sublime
\nso I climb love\u2019s stairs to see what\u2019s there.<\/p>\n
\nand time spanned with decades of breath
\nand hands held while walking.<\/p>\n
\nmemories mounted in rows on the walls
\nshowing small slices of all.<\/p>\n
\nunpleasant times and emotional crimes
\nboxed and mostly forgotten.<\/p>\n
\nthe constant companion, the sitting in silence,
\nand most especial the hugs.<\/p>\n
\nand the place needs constant repair,
\nbut what a view.<\/p>\n
\nTwo tufted titties land the same time as two nuthatches
\njust when she says, what birds? I dont see any,
\nand a female with a hint of red, house finch perhaps,
\nlands way down the viewing deck of a pond blue
\non account of what all
\noverhangs it.
\nFirst time i personally ideed
\nwood ducks, just saw the dames. I honed in
\non one with my noclers. Thin white ring about her
\ndelicate eyes, like a map.
\nNeither leads nor detracts
\nfrom the vision of her i follow
\nto the grace of a brook
\nsummer tries to dry.
\nGoldenrod, stuck among hostia leaves,
\nlike by a witch, to keep between book pages, bees
\ndelight in annually. This is it she says exactly
\nwhen i declare now is the time. <\/p>\n