Today, a wind blew into my town.

Today, a wind blew into my town.
It blew in a Spring; sun and sky
filled with dust.

     While marching bands played
     a hip popping reverence to life,
The wind blew umbrellas up from tables,
     but the people held on, like we do
     have a tendency to hold on.
The wind blew fountain water into spray,
     but the people blocked their faces,
     hands dams to the misty deluge.

Today, a wind blew into my town,
and the people marched into Spring
blindly holding on.
 
 
 

Spring Birds' Morning Song

Whatshurename?
Who are you?
Do we?
Do we
When I passed by the fields yesterday, spring sun warming
all, baby birds screamed from the top of the field lights,
their families perched searching -- Like birds we look
so stable on our perches (our wires), even in high
winds, our tail feathers continuously shifting
balance back and forth. In rain, we nest,
nurse and nuzzle in trees and holes.
Do we?
Do we?
Who are you?
Whatshurename?
 
 
 

Spring in February, 2011

Magenta of redbud
a tiny stick of which
picked to post

In Texas, Spring comes in February
the confluence of a captive bolt pistol
that stuns and retracts
that fights the light
and a goofy lanky tongue wagging lab
escaped from the pen
or mental institution
with a yen for freedom

Eyes blind to distance
What the hell is Spring thinking here?
Teasing us with a subtle sweet blow
glancing and off-balancing

Spring is a cataract the sun surges slicing
skin slides south as blisters saute
supine in skinny soft shorts
space separating shirtless swims