Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I remember Spring
in Baja Oklahoma
bleak with a blink of brightness

flat as the breast of my love with cherries
I hold my daffodil in hand
and wish for the leaves

somebody hummgry eat my haikus
but they are ready to grow again
in wet grass full of mosquitoes
and dark butterflies
that shows fucsia and turquesa
when they fly

haikus re-grow
from strong roots
and succulent longings

ready to fly
once they've left
the mosquitoddle swamp

palos borrachos in bloom
our boulevard
says good bye to the summer

white, pink & dark-green
soft curvatures & dinosaur´s thorns
fresh shadow at noon

at noon
time collapses
into itself

and a hole of sunlight swallows
all chronological thinking

while the shadows
patiently wait

Spring is a foreign country
in the land of living upside down,
dark Africa,
brooding
into another pregnancy.

.

@bloom horror ice ons
frangipani lilt
squinted into sons
un wholy won

spat borne from heaving
slippery thighs
manna reigned
delivery
suck comed by highs

the heaving of hips
hills spotted by manna
and bleating sheeps

the trees are heavy with expectation
in this land of man's mourning glory.
flowers tell the hint of autumn,
the first glint of steel keeled cold
haunts the evening, making summer flesh
clench.

i lay a rose to the remembrance of spring
[in a land of eternal growth]

soon, we'll walk with sweaters
huddle around some heaters
actually drive to the Drakensburg
in July
to celebrate a late Christmas.

But hark, here is to Spring, unfolding herself
in the upper hemisphere.

I remember daffodils, and the first crocus.
the smell of freshly turned earth.

the first days after the last snowfall.

dead grass coming to life again.

renewal.

in all its shapes and forms.

.

sitting under budding trees
and trees
with wine in your belly
and strife in your life
but it falls away under the sexual tension of spring
and the lawnmowers are starting up on sundays
and the fresh cut
grass smell
and the fresh cut
grass smell

while the sun sets
i see the dance
of two loneley birds
high up in the sky

and the sheep
herding together
for the night

and the shepherd
tall
and dark
and upright
walking slowly

i smell dark damp earth
and grass
still warm from the sun

and the sheepdog is jumping
and barking
rounding up
the bleating flock

and i listen

Spring is a cruel and a temporary thing
It is where we go in our dreams
where the leaves are tender
and the buds are yearning
time is put on hold

silencer trigers rifle
lambs wool blooded in bleats circumpleats
hemmed in ravels reveals


forme in shapes ship liquid
squid in the tentacle
kills res ur erected


poles parted

aslide