The Always Moist Mouth of Spring Jazz

Spring is like perhaps

A hand outside a window

Cool breeze at the edge

Of old things moving New

Without breaking anything

 

I've become a trader in exquisite suns

I've carefully arranged how

I admire people carefully

Spring is like perhaps

Chairs under trees, placed

 

In a circle ready for guests

A woman selling balloons

In the park, freedom hoping

To be caught, Spring is like perhaps

The silver dig of spent days

 

The echo of the rush, imminent flesh

Ripe with luminous laughter

Spring is like perhaps

Sailing into a keen bay

Where on the coast, couples stand in love

 

With flowers that picked themselves

And colors vibrant and pure

Spring is like perhaps

The breath of upwardcringing swiftness

A poetic carcass of a girl

 

Who is now like a leopard-woman

Or a white dream of new mingling

At another stage of without-fear

Spring is like perhaps

My separate lusts falling to the ground

Like hairs, sun-stirring me awake again.