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hollyhocks
it was a chorus line of hollyhocks against a crumbling red brick building
that devastated my poem,
they laid waste to the words you asked me to write,
you said I would try to hurt you with my intent,
my rhyme,
I said your prejudice and ignorance were showing,
like wearing a hooded down overcoat near the end of June
you said 'fire away' and I asked if you knew why
Bodhi-dharma left for the East,
on the grand scale of conclusions high on a hill
shepherds guard their flock from the thorn bush
and the mountain lion,
the fishers of men
live down in the valley of the marketplace;
you will not understand this poem
and you'll go about your business
blaming someone else for what you'll
never understand until you can see
inside the magenta and chestnut brown
mid-summer hollyhock, bursting
with painted ladies, hummingbirds
and poems.
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