Spring Poems

Warning:  Blame Dylan Krieger
 
Like a cannibal
I tore a small piece
from my own
journal's page
to feed to this
hungry new book
marking the poem
that provoked me
to move my dead pen
press deeper
indent with intent
 
my teeth will not fear
the great danger of words
 
         Take note:
         I will bathe
         my old skin
         in spilled ink
         I will stain
        your subconscious
        clean sheets
        I will stab out my heart
        with my sharpest blue pen
        and then mix
        my lost blood
        into yours.


March Poem (For Jimmy and the Bird)
 
I never learned
the names of birds
and language
challenges our nature
so you say:
we’re like melodies
in different frequencies
arranged refrains
and counterpoints
that make the songs up
of each other’s lives.
It’s Spring,
my song has harmony
and I like how it goes,
making me smile
like this shiny
black bird
whose name I don’t know,
singing her song
for green buds on her tree
on a sweet morning-after
when sunlight melts snow.