1017
two
poems
all
rise
ribs of a certain pale and blue
we’re having a little winter again
all in blossom with it
every green come
all rise
courtly, tendril
like a parliament of prayers
to simply turn the world
and only air up
till the last breath’s gone
and only sky up there
mulberry
is our Tyrian purple
everyone gets it in the beak
and as they come ripe
up in the branches
out of the blue
it’s berry to berry
the channel billed cuckoos
have all of Spring away
to dye us all
ReplyDeletea silk trade of the skies
where once phoenicians flew
and Hannu the Egyptian too
ReplyDeletehe once took a Punt