Socks
i.
a straw hat sits with a twine,
strap saddle on his porous head,
a bit of wheat sticking out the
corner of his mouth
a loose button down with as
many holes as stars in the night
sky; an afternoon buffet for the
inner city families of moths
ii.
he tends to the crops beside his bed
he plants seeds in pairs of socks until
they are stiff, he puts them in jars and
leaves them to ferment until next spring
they will bloom fuzzy sunset hues that
will fill the jar completely and will be
sold out the back of his pickup truck
for 5 cents