is a poem, frame of a ranch,
and idling sun constitutes purring
over ridges of excited
when alas looking thru stone, the
peerage of ices has been
erased. a commonal, struck from gloss,
contained in the bending
ways of portage, the heft of river
on the landscape, spring
in imagination and presented
with a mind.
a poem is stark for reasons of ice, then
melting, then flourish
and bloom, and still onward, rushing
or not, with wiry sentences
and bustling lines. the sound
of such goes to miles and miles
and the reef of blue sky that
dazzles us at morning.
beguiles us usefully, and we stick to
love song, how much
of this breeze will release the
dandelion, and how much will install
new flowers, and how much will
beckon corn stalks?
a bear is framed in this,
rolling down a street, posturing
by a river, entering breezy stores to
see this and that, then later
to absquatulate, cunning in the lanes
poetry is a language,
we share italics
when we speak.