Thursday, March 6, 2014

COUP

Just what 
sort of sagging scenario 
have you now

to cling to, bloated and hemorrhaging 
empire of winter?

Face facts.

All over—one of these 
braver
and more broad-shouldered mornings,

the gaunt-
cornered and dry men

and women of this country
will stand, 
stretch and—doubtless
rubbing out each of their two starving eye sockets—begin 

to step—slowly out 
past 
your raggedy borders;

grimacing towards the impetuous, raw and
sheer ugly 
newness of the weather,

but—at least 
no longer so unsure 
of daring to trundle over

such harrowing
and utterly 
oppressive frozen lots as yours—and gradually growing 
ever more certain 

only of the completely independent idea 

that this stiff and harsh and 
still-cold 
air will carry all-the-better—melodies;

new anthems worth exploring—of spindly, 
impetuous, still-
faint young voices 

out there 
somewhere—even now—covertly 

lusting
to perch and start 
pecking-

away 
at the knots 
of your lean white woods.

No comments:

Post a Comment

HOW DO YOU FEEL?