Dazzled and dazed at last,
he may not yet be done but
dandelion's in trouble.
Hot sun effulges,
over devastation of wind and rain;
and big rain-beads on the lounger skeleton
are a line of blinding crystal lenses.
Last night I lay in sad communication -
delusion pursuant to third party news
that finally you see your way to pay
just some of what you owe to my account.
My poems are leaping from collections:
you seem to feature every-bloody-where,
scheduled to appear in midwife uniform
to straddle me this point in chapter five.
A spider-haunted Janus I become,
one face back to you
the other burning in this Indian sun.
Oh, drape me deep in dazzle-dazes.
A long clear falling pee-ow cry. It is! It is
a buzzard circling, fringe-winged, overhead.
What silence that shrill utterance falls upon:
how all the twitters and the tweets shut up;
and for that moment I forget
my plot and thread.
YOU ARE READING
Gifts and Shards Vol 2
PoetryThis is the second and final volume of 'Gifts and Shards'. This takes us from the second month to now well over three years later, though there were many C poems in the collections tracking the seasons. There are no similar stories!
