"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



Now used to Winter’s wasteland

we stagger into Spring    Cherry blossoms

corrupted    covering our streets


In  bankrupt daze of Summer we’ll

run from all that blue: umbrellas  canopies

pools and Margaritas    O false beatitude


Winter our beloved   & infuriating Queen

will not be seen for 183 days    So here is a clue

city-dweller: quarry the light   fill your cups & barrels


Greet the coming rigor mortis as royalty    & you will survive

once more with your little white face   to witness the return

of   Spring!     March 21st  2015


When terrified spring flowers shudder at our feet

Your winter-devastations  likely the best thing about

you    will stubbornly retreat







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