herald to spring
finding no glory or victory in the news channels,earth/sprung
triumph out of her own breast/earth sprung up
stillness & the smell of goodgooddirt/earth
the sunsprung leaves/bled/mud in gratitude.
flies, it seemed, came out of nowhere, & found their own favorite circles of air still waiting to be
the world bled mud for gratitude
O sweet spontaneous earth
i thought to have seen more children than did show
laughing in the blidmud/but
there were lessons to be learned in desks
& when they come out again, it will be raining.
a perfect day
while the earth bled bliss in the blidmud and the sky
kissed the cloud on the cheek like thinking & the mud
sprung up blud into the above & the air
smelled like dirt-likegooddirt
there didn't need to be trumpets
there didn't need to be parades. there didn't even need
to be flower/s, even,/yet.
& it's spring
glorious is, is, only when the earth had decided to spring the sun
& the sprung sun spun the world to special
& sprinkled sparks &
strummed our chords in all the simplest, in all the right ways.
(go back & just do that C major, don't
fancify just play us some
glorious is flies.
& here i lie
on my own in a separate sky