Saturday, May 23, 2009

Spring 1

Between each season's gasp for breath
A moment's leased relief
Does lapse into the next refrain
of bludgeoning extreme

Then comatose, as excess yawns
A snarl of rotted teeth
that chewed each cloying bloom and leaf
that bored the hungry need

For color after lifeless months
Of cold
And gray
And why?s
For the next pneumatic pulse of life
To a torpid, endless sky

As soon as wonder wakes, afraid
that Spring this time forgot
To paint the numbers autumn fell
Or connect the frozen dots

Then latitude of sudden swoons
and drops into the light
To set ablaze each thylakoid
And let the next Spring's bludgeon fly


  1. This Ode to Spring's not traditional,
    And your blog's intense, slightly kooky.
    Still I must admit, I quite like it.
    Does this mean I'm some sort of blog groupie?

  2. Ha! You used 'thylakoid' in a poem.