Oddments

In search of story


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Connections: June 4

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERAHey, little bug! Do you know why you’re green?

So you can sit on a leaf and not be seen!

Yet here you are

appendicular

neon

on my screen.

Where are your bug wits? You should be more sly

hiding from hungry robin’s eye.

Is it just

that you must

touch

that raspberry sky?

Connections


3 Comments

Protest

I searched for poems of spring.
Ponce de Leon seeks fountain of youth.
Alchemy? Holy grail?
Title for Brooklyn Bridge?
Easier.

Pogo says the first sign of spring is winter.
But must winter enter in?
Mortality? Reality?
So heavy the tread of winter,
so light the touch of spring, that
the one inflicts on the other?

I want a verdant, blue poem.
Sunny, light as transparent green bug
en pointe on kitchen window,
barely there,
fragile-winged,
but declaring her being to me.

Transient,
delicate as the glimmering bug,
but as worthy,
spring for its own sake,
sung
whooped
concelebrated.

No trespassing, poets,
with somber sound,
tempering delight with caution.
Leave such pedagogy to pedants.
I want no morals,
no lessons,
only the heady frilly breath of
this newborn air.