Selections from Spring Poetry 2016

Spinning silver webs with her laughter
and at lunches whirling her hair
We’ve all worshipped the quivering image
Our fingertips find each other
as she jumps on the train it whistles
and we all fall down
My morning after when I
Peel my body up and work
To pump air back in, as I’ve
Deflated.       Overnight.
With small sighs she propels herself
forward through air thick with rain
trying to avoid the sharp things
so I don’t pop

And now that you don’t have to be
You can be, at last
just good.
So take a deep, deep
sweet blue breath
Spring has returned
And she’s shshing away
all those webs, and nightmares
and the greys that threatened.
Sun bright air light
steps white and whimsy
you can be good
Look up! Little. Bird
The sky is big again
stretched wide and singing again
trees bearing soft buds
with warm winds and
new hopes and
the quiet assurance of one’s own ability
>to exist<
You can be good

Printed pennies dripped from her fingers
She let them fall
And floated forward white and bare
Dropping pages, leaving dust
Shedding layers of words
And the skimmed over sidewalk
stared and gawked
she shook her head and
thoughts shiny and quiet showered down
lines and strings carrying her many sunsets and mountain ranges
her dinnertime rituals of grace and dishes
toppling off her exposed shoulders
with every step
serene pieces crumbled off
and the earth stared at the fragments
she had left in its fingers and hollows
she moved on without blinking or breathing
new coins minted, new self, teething


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