April is the cruelest month, with the stirring dull roots blossoming in spring rain
Lilac's still a month away, and the stems of the ebullient estivation of this end of season
But, this is Jefferson's victory over slaves, and the politics run in my sleep
Ruminating over the possibilities of dinner and sleep, I fall into a dream
I glance at the tea, feeling peckish
Poking my peevish gutter, my hunger pangs
A dull head among wintry specimens
I cough in their presence and sneeze
I an old man
Signs and signs are taken for words and words
When will the word be the sign in this world, I walked in the juvenescence
Quite jubilant were the citizens, as it was Cherry Blossom season
Never having witnessed the spectacular indication of festive fervor and the Hakagawa bows among Titans