Latest poems
Welcome
Books
Biographies
CDs
Posters
Prices & Orders
Photos
Latest poems
Art
Guest book
false springs are welcome, too

I was at the coffee shop
engaging in
suicide by donut
when I looked around
and noticed
that the place was
knee
deep in
fat old men with beards,
most of them,
the ones not dozing,
reeling
from the young girl
in little white shorts
who just walked through

it�s a weather phenomena
thing, you know,
false spring, bringing
warm days
and chill nights,
little green buds
on every tree,
and little twig nests
with little white eggs
and fierce and protective
mothers watching
every approach,
poor
misbegotten
little doomed buds,
poor little thin-shelled eggs
soon to be thrown to the ground
by the return of winter winds

but not so tragic, this false spring,
for the fat old men with beards,
for they only dream anyway
and dreams cannot be fooled,
will not freeze
or be blown away
by the fiercest wind,
so that long bare legs
scurrying
all around town
, like the bird
and the bud
on the tree
by the kitchen window,
only a whole bunch
better,
may return to winter
cover
soon,
but the dreams
they stirred will prevail

<< previous poem next poem >>