Friday, May 25, 2012

Watching birth from the dirt

Every green bit grin rising from flat brown
follows the same joyful split seed eruption-
be it sullen dill or dry basil or wry cilantro,
each patience tests eager hovering potters.

A green man similar shares peculiarities burst
upward although seed is coveted mostly when
a strict hat denies erect red and blue venalities
from a joyful thrust into spread white clouds.

Is it wrong to fuck the sky?


  1. this is a saucy and clever poem.... great energy and images and soooo subtle.
    i like!!

  2. that last line...not what i was expecting but i want more of it!! amazing final thought. x