Spring Cracks

Spring cracks and stirs up its
everything
Draws me out
Older than I should be
Whiter in bone and soul
than the brittle hair
pulled skull-tight on the elderly.
Run harder and longer
to lose the corpse I've been
watching on its pillow by mine,
lose the hot, scar tools
I've changed myself with,
lose my mouth.

Summer stirs up its everything
for me to put my nose
into. Wetting my face.
I ignore its everything.
In fear of the points
of grass stalks
the hot of rocks.
I lie benign on top and
not inside the pandora of
the wild season.

Fall stirs up its everything
untacking the indiscriminate Summer
taking it down like muslin over a waiting work
It stirs up its cold
the reserved love its rocks and yellow grasses
its slender arms of still-warm tree blood
smell of.
It draws me out to work again
lie myself on the cool ground and
swell with the warm sky blood
to change into my wild
to do it reservedly
to roll my dreams on my tongue
and tell no one what I am stirring.

Winter stirs up its everything
the white alchohol of bare
sky, trees, rocks
uniformly ignoring my work
determinedly blind
unafraid of what I am becoming
behind its terrible back.

Aug 1 09