Tuesday, September 4, 2007


There was a skull in the garden, something small--squirrel or rat--biting up at the day. He brought the shovel down and the bone fell neatly into shards. He felt sick to destroy such beautiful death, but free. A small man drank from a sack in the alley.


Amos Arnow said...

"biting up at the day" Beautiful!!

Joseph Young said...

Thanks, Tommy. Always nice to hear from you.