"Procession to dilapidations".

"Procession to dilapidations"

   Scarecrow magic, late in the field,
   When dark men jump picket fences, leaving trails of country bourbon
   As the red barn heaves its breath into the night

   Rain falls like miracles on the road,
   Polishing corn stalks with moonlight;
   Down the gutter of roofs like squeezed lime
   Wild rain is the dreadlocks of heaven

   Extinguished lighter smoke chalks the night,
   We feel the beat squishing between our toes while
   Women drape over our shoulders like listless sunshine

   Coming in from the party:
   Flip flops, swaggers and drawls,
   Hiccups freckle the air like ripped cardboard
   As delayed jokes resume their tickle

   --Flies bunx the kitchen lights

   Out the door, four feet search for the grass
   Crescent on the veranda: love's haiku

   The moon printed on the dark sky like a stuffed beetle,
   Scythes already killing the canes
   Carried on straw hats, through the sweet water

   The canes fall like shot men-
   Through the sweet, green, Caribbean water