Friday, April 9, 2010

POETRY: Spring

Each curled green tongue
hesitantly licks
the reborn sky
quivering, reluctant
at first opening
the soft note
crescendos to an emerald chorus,
Spring.

-Brandon Lacy Campos
-On the train in Connecticut
-9 April 2010

3 comments:

  1. On the bus

    A lady gets on the bus and sits across from me

    She squints her eyes to blur the words I am wearing.

    tries to read my jacket with malice

    It reads P-E-R-U

    Then asks me where I work

    I say Chicano and American Indian Studies at the U of M

    She says there are Chicanos here?

    I told her, all around you,
    asleep, awake, working.

    And we know where you live

    I Wink at her and get off the bus.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This is GREAT!

    Remind me to forward you this awesome poem I know about a man from Nantucket!

    ReplyDelete

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