Tuesday, March 31, 2020


Come, let 
the violent spring 
rain again

from inviolable clouds
to bewilder wrecked field edges,
foggy lakesides,
drab embankments;

to the mute
slate gray pools
eclipsing dank park lawns,

the indistinct dross 
gathered penitent 
in street curbs,

the piles of rot and
aborted treebuds
clogging up the sewers.

From every heavily devastated
bit of nothing special,

a new force
waits in its benevolent
artifice to emerge—

so undeterrable,
it cannot be doubted,
co-opted, bailed-out,
reversed, or contained.

Come, let the violent 
spring rain again

its benediction:
that absences
are generative too—

that even our conspicuous lack
can be productive.