Ryan G Van Cleave (*) Children ...

Ryan G Van Cleave (*)
Children with pus-filled organ of visions
scramble for lemons,
the little individuals gone sour
enough to fall.

Only the sharp-set know
the heart of a lemon

A macaw who no other than says me llamo gato
without realizing someone's ruthlessness
Reclaimed swampland, thick with tamarisk.
Cut down cane and it results back to haunt.

A paper-mill-turned-ghost-town,
the incessant insects.
The nearest point of reference
is thirty miles away a shiver of mountain brisk.

(*.)Ryan G Van Cleave is a freelance