spring is whispring its name..........

spring:
a hill without a name
veiled in morning mist.
-matsuo basho

green grass--
between, between the blades
the color of water
-kiga no chiyo

out in the cold sunshine
planting early potatoes
uncertain who i am
-ken jones

eye must make an official yearly announcement
that it is now SpringG
since our horseradish is dug/scrubbed/ground/jar'd
& succulent taste bud numbingly devoured

so now the robins & redwings & blubyrds & frogs
can sing & yodel their courtship songs
.........hey darling what you doing twonite
maybe we can sing buffalo girl won't you come out tonite
& dance by the light of the moon

rake the yard........push that wheelbarrow
burn off the debris from the asparagus plants
walk barefooted to the mailbox
dew an overdue pre-summer-assault somersault across the yard
even if your going to be 61 springs young
feel the sap rise in your treetrunk body
be part of the ritual of another iwanian spring

tell a post-st. paddies daze yoke of the daze
what dew you get when you kross poison ivy with a 4-leaf klover
.......................................a rash of good luck...................

& already april king of fool's daze is over
yes there was sugar in the salt shaker
a sticky note under the komputer mouse
grandsun was ready for all the tricks for me to play for hymn
wouldn't believe anything eye zaid to hymn......wunderwhy
that his first cousins were coming for a visit
hilary had dropped out of the prez race

eye am alweighs zpying for the first butterfly
another sure sign of the birth of spring
mushrooms & toadstools poppin'
the sandhill cranes wingin' overhead
canadian geese honkin' that they own the sky
..........the thining of the human blood..........walk a mile
...........dig fingers into the smell of organic earth

poetry being composed outside every window
hatching around every tree
paddlin' up & down every creek & river
risin' from the earth...dropping from the sky
the pilgrimages&migrations of so many species
triggering sex among the flowers/bees/trees/kritters
procreate if you dare..........


like jean cocteau zaid
"there are poets and there are grownups"
or carl sandburg kleverly quipp'd
"poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.

be a babbling boisterous poet if for only a second/minute/hour
'till it ticks someone off............

call me............send me.............a bouquet of your words/thoughts/emotions
exploding with glee/enthusiasm/euphoric=euphoria

life passes us by too quick
the cemeteries are way too quiet this tymne of year
scream...........become the wildness that aches to be free in our zubdued world
be part fox or vixen.......lobo or koyote.....bare the real bear inside you

poeticallykontagioushoundedbythewind/rain/whisperoflove'sbreathshiveringmebones&blood
freeingmefreeversefinallytotallyfree
mykal&orf