"Mr. Wordsworth is fond of the hollyhock" 
			--Margaret Fuller

trees of them
plain fences
dry straw buds
	avenue
	lane
	broken 
	glass gravel
gathered brown clay
	creek bed
	muscles
travel at your
	own risk
	crimson brown
	to rose
	straw color
	and white
	crinoline
planted to hide
coin seeds
pursed to
proselytes
	heat wave
	upon hard
	packed parch
			paths bent
			between
			divisions
as high as
six feet tall
thrown accident
against wire lines
	liking them
	uncovered 
	neighbor
	pillow feather
		bed inside Billy
		goat anus stretched
			hollyhock
			open window