Nathan Blansett

     He broke
his right
     arm falling
off his bicycle
     so he had
to paint with
     his left:
the rowers lunching
     in their
white attire
     while the river

     *

the sound of it—
     chestnut trees
assuming tan, politesse
     shapes, like a

     *

pleat, in the white sleeve
an arm bent over chair-back...

     *
over the sound
here

the rowers' eyes closing
to hear

     *

as the speaking
     voice speaks too
quick to be taken
     down by one's
pencil, where
     features are penciled more
deeply,

     *

the veined
     aspects of the
leave-shapes
     adjusting
themselves, keeping
     themselves, not
throwing away
     their waste