Poet Laundry

  Honest Lee stepped out of a dime western— wavy brown hair, chestnut mustache, six-shooter on his thigh.   Not anybody’s prairie ...

  There I was in black velvet, stitched with fluorescent thread—   a trellis for thirteen roses, dying but not dead.   Just a ...

  A dozen plump oranges were hanging from the tree. A dozen plump spiders had encircled each one with a dozen white webs.   Kitty ...