Poems from the “Spring” section of the forthcoming collection Offertory



A wheelbarrow rotted through Winter,

now filled with soil and sun,

will soon be bearing blossoms—

daisies, blue bonnets and snapdragons—

a novel, transient world of petals—blushing,

bruised, morose or vivacious—

comrades in arms gathered in bouquets,

dripping in buckets, shrieks of daffodils!

O…how Man lusts for flowers!






The watchman unlocks the padlock

and loosens the gnarled chain—

children come in clusters,

empty buckets in hand;

they push in like sheep rushing

out of the barn, hurrying past

with shrieks of joy, eyes twitching

from sudden light pouring over.





How lovable, these children—

bouquets of balloons,

little fat feet all alike,

toes imprinting wet sand.

They tinkle like kittens,

with small, ineffective teeth that

revel over fruits in open-markets

with the same awe we have for newborns—

perfect, inimitable, yet already bruised—

fresh yet showing spots

and stains that precede rot.






Sap climbs trees to tell all leaves

what was heard by roots beneath the ground.

Leaves then tell it to the winds;

Winds tell it to free men

who live like chimes hung over fire.

Tales from under the earth and of the dead

spread all over.

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