a come on
one turns to one who is not there, and whispers “watch.” to which no one replies “i’m waiting.” then one imperceptibly prepares to sing. “now, listen.”
one turns to one who is not there, and whispers “watch.” to which no one replies “i’m waiting.” then one imperceptibly prepares to sing. “now, listen.”
with spring unfolds the drama of the nasalrealm: the first-kiss-swoon of jasmine, the sweet domestic bliss of fresh-mowed grass, the pollen’s filing-for-divorce