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