Poems
by Vincent
O'Connor
Rural Joy
children in halos of
dirt, sweat, and sun
laugh as rivulets of
viscous peach juice flow
down their chins
and dragonflies flit by
on diaphanous wings
close by dogs raise dust on
parched gravel roads
as they trot past tasty
color gardens
grinning green and ripe
red
The Plural of “Beef” is “Beeves”
the things
you learn when a
pandemic is lapping at
your doorstep
and you’ve dug so far into
the internet
you’ve staked a claim
on a prime piece of
property and started
your own little
farm of fantastical facts
and
convoluted conspiracies
