Monday, March 9, 2015

FANTASIA ON A THEME

Apologies in advance—for 
whatever they're worth

to every small
morning bird out there
currently chirping—oo-de-lolly! 

oo-de-lolly!
ooh-la-
la—gee! golly! 

up, down and all over
each still-
tender chilly

bald limb on Bosworth—
but today

the much milder March 
air settling in 

across the tired 
shoulders of our shy 
new city has engendered

an entirely different sort
of mass 
all-together—the homily of which regards 

true glory!
as something much quieter;
condensation 

on shop windows—
fog on low 

sidewalks—
the brave blush 
of a little 

sun on ice—reflecting,
refreshing,
reanimating the promise—

that even all 
the glass 
and the muck 
and the ash—

the dogshit and 
Jewel bags and tidal waves
of sidewalk morass—

will not only 
pull-
back, but moreover

will likely—
make truly
great manure someday.

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