I'm pleased to announce
that staying at the Writers House
is like living under a multi-colored apple tree
in winter; syneshetes would tremble with pleasure
tempera paint and chalk make a fromidable coat
of many colors, in summer pink and white blossoms fall on your head
to the south here, a forest
to the east, only snow and a garden
to the north a road and forest
to the west forest, a blue halloween-observing house
a long time ago my latin teacher, Sister Aloysia asked me
what happened to my curls
"It's damp out," I said.
"You're in a damn pout," she said.
In Philadelphia a chupacabra* came to the door but we kept her out
there everyone can speak Latin and Greek
for dinner we had cauliflower and leek soup
with scallops and caviar
the sky looks blue which feels like stilettoes
Sophia's plant is green, just like an 'E'
living in the embers of a fire/tree
Writers House; harbinger's words

              *that's like a locust (not the tree) only bigger