for CJ
--------
half of a boulder,
this April month weighs
less and more, this
stepping stone tween
a bitter winter,
burning gusts
winded our souls,
either hot and cold,
both aged our souls
this middling month,
never satisfies, its
very nature is how
it teases, hints, then
betrays our battered
souls
winter wearied worn,
even the occasional sun
a-joke, pretense of
warmth that warms
nothing but further on-
disappointment
comes along a sprinkle
of springing spring that
suckles suckers that
a fine environment
next up, but it’s not,
a solitary kiss to break
your lowered spirits,
and twist
the corkscrew spiral
into your only good
remaining
centrical ventricle with
a nasty evil grinding
grin
this mache salad month
hides its ides,
covers our eyes,
with sheaths of
hope of crushed crystal,
and so abused,
I sink stink
into a despair worse than the
bleak house of winter’s desperations,
and done, bone in…
spring leaps with hope,
but ends enraging and endangered;
May is but a maybe, a hope,
a spring print of hinted minted prayer,
it raises the hope but
offers more wet days of dissatisfaction
but nota bene:
This po-em
writ months ago,
see below,
and now virtually,
and circuitously
we return
back, to old familiar friends,
the Easyt Coaster Bitters
are slow but surety
processing their re-appear-adance
and another tree line circle
on my poetic tree is
roundedly completed,
for
I,
a summer man, who,
have learned survival skills
but barely,
my cracked skin and lips,
cryout for relief,
but I am a human first,
a poet second,
so I lick my lips,
and beg forgiveness
from my angelic muses
re my ******** about boulders, getting the olders ills-at-ease diseases,
and in-clementine weather,
to the one who listens faithfully,
and also**
faithfully never replies…
Oct 21, 2025
Oct 21, 2025 at 5:20 PM UTC
for CJ
--------
half of a boulder,
this April month weighs
less and more, this
stepping stone tween
a bitter winter,
burning gusts
winded our souls,
either hot and cold,
both aged our souls
this middling month,
never satisfies, its
very nature is how
it teases, hints, then
betrays our battered
souls
winter wearied worn,
even the occasional sun
a-joke, pretense of
warmth that warms
nothing but further on-
disappointment
comes along a sprinkle
of springing spring that
suckles suckers that
a fine environment
next up, but it’s not,
a solitary kiss to break
your lowered spirits,
and twist
the corkscrew spiral
into your only good
remaining
centrical ventricle with
a nasty evil grinding
grin
this mache salad month
hides its ides,
covers our eyes,
with sheaths of
hope of crushed crystal,
and so abused,
I sink stink
into a despair worse than the
bleak house of winter’s desperations,
and done, bone in…
spring leaps with hope,
but ends enraging and endangered;
May is but a maybe, a hope,
a spring print of hinted minted prayer,
it raises the hope but
offers more wet days of dissatisfaction
but nota bene:
This po-em
writ months ago,
see below,
and now virtually,
and circuitously
we return
back, to old familiar friends,
the Easyt Coaster Bitters
are slow but surety
processing their re-appear-adance
and another tree line circle
on my poetic tree is
roundedly completed,
for
I,
a summer man, who,
have learned survival skills
but barely,
my cracked skin and lips,
cryout for relief,
but I am a human first,
a poet second,
so I lick my lips,
and beg forgiveness
from my angelic muses
re my ******** about boulders, getting the olders ills-at-ease diseases,
and in-clementine weather,
to the one who listens faithfully,
and also**
faithfully never replies…
composed between
2/28/25~5/30/25
