CONJUNCTIONS: A Web Exclusive

Last Man Donald Revell

The hawthorn is God’s hat And patterns in the marble Swarm like bees The world as I knew it would Saunters out of the sexpool and lilacs It begins to walk away Little clodhopper Crab-apple numb with cold Go quickly and take the buttercup Keep pace with the sweet earth I cannot keep I did not think the end would fall in the middle way But I am happy now That now is the hour Even burrowing animals become creatures of the air □