Monday, May 13, 2013


There must be
someone out there making money
off this peachy 
currency of green leaves, sweeping
broadcasts on the popular

Surely, verdant 
makes a nifty buzz-
word for new keenness of 
grassblades growing ever greener—sharper 
fodder for higher

Even dirt-
anointed clumps of 
rebel clover seem to swell
for want of snappy slogans—one nation 
under oaks—and each exploits 
in me a lightness,
too unsubtle to have come unbottled,
too unbridled
not to flow—a rushing 

cache of advertisements,
brought to you by 
everywhere—oh can't you just
smell it 

in the fair-
traded pearblossom air?