I don't think this is a very good poem, but when you write a poem a day that happens.


A feral grape vine
that grapples and years long crimps
an arthritic chain link fence
fencing a savage yard
of thin rodents and mad thistles
behind a decadent house
denuded of paint,
naked of curtains
and stripped of many panes of distinction,
and on that fence-track vine
on a woody stalk, one clump
among many clumped of
dust purple toughskin grapes.
A bird at the clump
gulps three.

-- Carl Bettis

Image info: illustration by unknown artist in the magazine Outing, volume LIX, Oct. 1911 - March 1912