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Lean to me, Teddy,
As brown as the line of earth,
As I lean to you.
The marker runs out
Burnt umber, then sepia,
At last, sienna.
The negative space
Into which we both impinge
From left and from right.
Jonathan Edwards:
“Being’s consent to being
Is the true virtue.”
You fold your fat paws
And the lines of my green leaves
Turn in on themselves.
Beast with no straight lines:
All the lines you are are all
Curvilinear.
My stalk is one line
But my poor sunflower head
Totally ‘sploded.
Freddy age five did the marker rendering. Fred age thirty eight did the pseudo-haiku.
