some frogs
toyed
with the human
by croaking
once, twice.
then being quiet
as he looked
around.
Archive for December 28, 1991
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some frogs
toyed
with the human
by croaking
once, twice.
then being quiet
as he looked
around.
I shot my poem
with a bow I strung
high away in the air
up over the sun.
I fly when I’m lonely
with no one around.
wild spinning up softly,
ending up on the ground.