Thursday, July 16, 2009



A gap between the hedges

Where nothing will grow--

Empty as the moon,

Barren as snow.

Even the grass is thin,

Naked earth showing through,

As if the soil were sick,

Or chary of giving life anew.

A year ago,

I brought an azalea here:

It withered upward from the root,

Leaves turning black and sere--

No nourishment

In this accursed space.

It died within the month.

I planted nothing in its place.

I leave it to its own–

Bare of foliage and plant,

A ground where emptiness grows,

And flowers can’t.


Jack Peachum