know Im home
these moonchilled woods.
seen the white coast of the Gulf, bleached so bright
hurt my eyes. Theres nowhere to go
you get there. So here Ill stay, at least
the bluegill play out in Paynes Creek.
cloak of foxgrape covers the barbed wire
by the cattlegap gate.
old horse grazes.
Morris Kennedy is a Florida native, and night city editor
in Tampa for the St. Petersburg Times. His poetry and fiction
have appeared in The Berkeley Monthly, The Tampa Review,
Willow Review, Freefall, Samisdat, City
Miner, Avatar Review and Blue Collar Review,
and his poems have been accepted for upcoming editions of Penwood
Review and Hidden Oak.
Robert M. Kennedy