April Day

The bracken rain fans its wriggly fingers,
The antic wind elbows your eyelashes and earlobes,
The fey April daylight trips from three-storey cornice
To rippled sidewalk to misted windshield.

No sadness can spoil a Spring day gone wrong.
No joy can pierce a Spring day sorry it’s not Summer.

The laughter bubbles in the cafes, in the markets,
The theologians roar somewhere on the internet.
The slim April daylight anoints the floor with thin
Self-importance as the moist footprints slowly evaporate.


Changing Everything

“Metamorphosis occurs through passion.”
–Ernesto Grassi

When memory submits to speech
Your face, your flesh, your eyes sublime,
When words become a mental bleach
That cleanses color and poisons rhyme,

Appears the sweetened gasoline
That fires my lies and purifies
The words become a vivid scene
That burns our pretense down to size.

When we wake from our sweaty daze,
Your face is different, your eyes afraid;
When silence drifts between us, a haze
That moistens our intentions and the clay

Of our sad, earthen arms.
When did we become
so heavy
with the weight
of plans,
so heavy
with the freight
of joy?