springs, eternal
the forecast calls for
plummeting skies, hard reigns with
accumulations
of tumult and thundering
rhetoric; I say green points
of new buds provide
sufficient defense against
infirm firmament,
and cardinal-chants suffice
to keep clouds in their courses
-SB
Memorial Day, Antioch Park
Seven
mallard ducklings
huddle on a wet stone;
I counted nine just thirteen days
ago.
-SCD
Gone to Kansas City
Driving
with the top down,
I seek new streets in this
land of red brick and white-boy blues.
Show me.
-SCD
The Tuesday After
I have
folded your memory
like a flag
and put
it in the drawer. See you
in a year.
-SB
Unseasonable
Still air
full of early
summer, more than a month
too soon; someone go and find where
spring went.
Promise
whatever it wants to come back:
garlands, pole-festivals,
hymns in honor
of rain.
-SB
Lost Time
Birdsongs …
have I written
all night? From the bedroom,
no more calls, no more tears, only
silence.
-SCD
Inspiration
Bright bolts
crackle and arc
from inner thunderheads;
illumined by the flash of “if,”
we dance
and pray
for paper, canvas, strings to blaze,
for breath to spread the sparks,
for night to burn
away.
-SCD
Alien Buddha Press 