April 7, 2011

Untitled Spring Poem

weed greens in lot
jumbled with naked black sticks
river runs high
puddles on pavement
adjust to more light
more light

and so it turns
the bully plants bustin' out
the complex grasses yawn and stretch
toward sun closer

it will be farther
but now it's closer
near, far,
round and round

black mud at edge of asphalt
broken rock
spangled wet leftover leaves
there'll still be cold rain
but we stretch, relax, grasp the warm
  to our cores
for the most part, it's here

March 2011

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