Two Poems
K.R. Copeland

Holler Song

IndiGOgogo

faux PAS, faux PAS

tricker-ee-ee-ee

dirty-dirty-dirty-dirty

hehe-he-heher-AWE

his awful leaving

her-rawher-rawher-raw


The Hours Flower Briefly

The hours flower briefly, every well-spread petal, seconds from a chiefly peaceful death. Minutes mimic themselves most days, with the laze of old bones folding. Green things croak amongst the Crocuses and bulbs. Unbuzz the bees. Seasons pluck the love-mes, doldrums thrum the trees, forget-me-nots. Daily, weekly, on weak knees we dig our plots. Lots of ease in going under, rooting numerous the blooms -- sunken bundles of perfumes mud-caked with wonder.