springs service to several deep purplish reds.

 

 

 

My left ear, the aerodynamicist

that practices and then defends the

motion of air as performed aspiration

and then reminds my lips that 'I

heard you the first time'. The right

 

ear is of no good use having slept on it for

all these years and has flattened out and

now just rests like the fine particles of an aerosol.

Yet since they came together on one

hot, sweaty face, I consider them united

 

in interest and affinity. Is it so wrong to

be pure? I mean, to hear as the owl

hears in parallel; to remember then

rely on pain as the great good reason?

 

Spring is almost here and I want to listen to

the tulips push aside, lifting the dirt and cow manure

and then dismiss me from the process as if

somehow tulips could happen anyway. Or can

happen the way sound or the action of recall

happens.

 

And if some way a tulip can just appear

out of nowhere in a makebelieve garden

anywhere, what should I care what they

talk about. Only that they chose me,

 

or remembered that I loved that crocus dance

or that I was a poet who thought of silly things

as this, or that I observed things with a  sticky tongue

and heard associations, and though every hour

 

was yesterdays, held onto odd facts until the test

was over, and who thinks that flower gardens

owe him something, and who keeps a log over

which ones memory extends and then brings

it all back and writes it down

 

as if something crinoline or pink

deserves attention, and

it just might.

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[SHEEMA HUQ]

very nice to read your colourful hopes and wishes, articulated so artfully, this was a truly engaing, intelligent ( need i mention), observant poem, nice work

[Tree]

Exquisite poetic storytelling. I rested for a long time on every stanza, taking it in. But for some reason I stayed for quite some time on the sixth, and seventh. Every word before that led us to that cresendo; where then you finally ''tucked'' us, into bed... Fine piece here, Dana. I know I will return to this

Diego

[Corset]

Read this late and like spring it blooms, into what i'm not sure but judging by how i feel after reading it , it makes me crave the the sun in photosynthesis, it makes me want to walk barefoot in dark rich earth :)