August heat—
The red barn
Like a red ark
Floats in a field
Of sepia-coloured barley.
Ten thousand grasshoppers
Rub their legs.
I listen,
Drink cold beer,
And remember
A dream I had
Last night:
A gravel road,
A dark,
Unpainted
Wooden fence,
Bent against it
A rusting wheel,
Some broken
Glass bottles,
An open
Stinking
Refrigerator;
A study
On consumption
Of the dead.
Tomorrow
I go home to re-sit
A missed exam:
Logic, of all things.