Keith Brown

English

Mane n' Tail

I dove face first into the pillow until the last vestige of your Mane n' tail melted my drooling bachelor-ego. You said my accismus-inflection sputtered out cock-eyed sentence fragments like I was the God of revelry. I did not think your trills were a cry for help. Did you

English

Pear Trees

Rows and rows of pear trees  Solider effervescently In the aura-dawn.   Their lines are the keepers  Of the dew-grass labyrinth  And the bungalow at their end,    For their fruit has been  The source of pride  For generations    Of soiled hands.