Everyone Outdoors Talking

First day of spring, beginning a whole year of spring!
Everyone outdoors talking.

Rose to narcissus:
“Have you seen that ugly raven’s face?”

“No, he has no interest in us.”
“That’s good news!”

Pomegranate asks the apple tree for a peach.
“All you loafers down at that end of the orchard, you’re
always wanting peaches.”

“You’ve got to have a soul like Jesus
to be handed a peach!”

Inside this ordinary banter come messages from the source,
from absolute absence.

The plants stretch new wings in the sun.
Cloud and fog burn off. “Bless your heart.”
“That’s enough.”

Sun moves into Aries, permanently!
“Come see me.”
“I will.”
“I’d like that. But I can’t leave this.”

Ground soaked, sky full of candles.
Visions of fire and water alternating.

Drag your feet off the boat.
Look at him standing there.

I used to have mountain ranges inside my chest.
Now it’s smooth plain.

Grief lives between the cat paws.
You can say eek-eek or gehk-gohk,
but there’s no way to escape.

Throw this cloth-making equipment into the fire,
the alphabet spindle that’s stuck in your throat,
the cleft stick of your neck wrapped with thread.