Chameleon, leave us— Hiding spring in the tree leaves— Is that you, old man—
A disordered mind Welcome vernal equinox You’ve come a long way
as luminous and numerous as Tuesdays are don’t get used to them
Torn from latent roots Thunder, the cloud’s carnation The cicada reigns This is an unsolicited continuation of Anna Mark’s ‘Cicada’. It of course has to stand on its own two legs.
Addressing the sin In summer: aestivation, Evacuation.
We both weave a web. The spider’s is intricate. Mine will last too long.
July 26— Today could be my birthday— As could tomorrow—
A poem set to words— Wind in a swallow’s wings, my Throat full of footprints.
The cicada must Not forget its cocoon. Its Baby is the sky.