174. keel, crusted, why?

it starts with the peas, once frozen released
a book on common metaphysical greens — 
they’re slowed down, for sure, but free to explore
renaissance rhubarbs, regrets, troubadour

tendrils run smiling, strumming, compiling,
anthologies ancient of lettuces knighting — 
the whole market stall is free from the thrall
of daily consumption, and that’s where it all

goes a bit rubber for arbuthnot’s old structure,
the billy goats, breezes, the root systems under
have ruled all these islands, the cape and require a
strict set of conduct, otherwise, why the

baskets unstring (that’s what they think),
the storefronts come down, the shadows all sink — 
it’s laid down in prose by homer, a hose,
who told of the far begone wars of the roses

the white roses — frank and billy and blank
(that line was left empty, or maybe it stank — 
a tablet lacuna, was lost or removed from,
and somebody’s story was not shoved into it)

were working one morning on building a fortress,
or summerhouse, something, a long time before this,
when out of the blue old bastard bamboo
busted in, blasted up, snatched up the rule

sure, way back then, of rocks and some sand,
but somebody’s got to keep it in check — 
the white roses had it for three weeks commanded,
but black the bamboo is stringy, expanded

quickly it grows and shaded out those
who sunlight require, invasive, provokes,
pins down, and punctures, its simple cell structure
is too much for flowering flat leaf ground cover

anyway, homer, in detail (three tomes) then
describes how the battle throughout the whole summer,
back and forth, breaks, loves, lives, and rakes,
fertilizer, crocodiles, and then winter came
(cont.)

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