About Poetry in the Supermarket

[Brownlie]

Bad meter....


I spied a placard painted here
Amidst the pandered fruits.
A blushing apple rendered cartoon
By yellow bus-like flutes.

I can speak of grass-roots, one that seems
To grow from wicker bowls,
And mushroom cartoon jubilee
That turns to wholesale gold.

The other sprouts in puny leaves,
And seeks to make a whole.
The placards signal dollar signs,
And artifice the soul.

The other looks beneath his sole,
And binds us to his boot.
I curse the magic father now
Beholding missive roots.

However, I fear the abstract
Demon who winds with words,
And billows out a dragon’s pall
To choke the yearning herds.