GOAT READS THE SIGNS [25]

GOAT READS THE SIGNS

The sun rises like music
every morning. Wind goes
around the world and comes
back in a week or two. Goat
waits on top of a hill, judging
the wind for weeks, waiting for
one that looks to be heading
home. Then he cries lonely into it;
it comes back, unchanged. The sun
sets like a flat tambourine.

from GOAT lies down on Broadway. For more info see here.

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