163: It is spring, and so/I go...

It is spring, and so

I go

out in the gardens:

green leaves and buds on

slivers of haiku

I stop

raise my nose to

early opened flowers

and inhale deeply

dew lays languid on

their petals

touched by a breeze

twigs and branches become

intoxicated

I am

showered by raining sonnets (like

Neruda’s)

I am

baptised, initiated, welcomed and

find myself cavorting

in the great dance as

partners change and trade

I spin

run explore play

I hear

a shout

it is Midnight calling

but I’m already far away

Morning comes looking

for me and finds me

collapsed and maudlin

on some vast lawn and

I tell her:

           “Take all my clothes

            and burn them.”

I tell her:

           “There is no truth

             except nudity.”

“You’re drunk.”

Morning tells me

I tell her:

           “It’s all these flowers;

            they make me want

            to keep on revealing myself

            until there is nothing left.”

Morning sighs:

“It is worse than I feared,

you are in love.”

I tell her:

            “I was wondering why

             everything had become poems.”



©2010 by Jonathan Neske

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