Sunday, March 06, 2005

And I'm adding one more, Galway Kinnell's "The Porcupine." Consider these thirteen tied for the top ten, like when two skaters are tied for a bronze, they both get it, and therefore that event has four medalists. I think I can do that.

And following the citation of such poems, and the quoting of the Kafka, what can I do but say, here's a spring poem, extempore? Gettin' warmer.


What will the flowers do
tomorrow, sun higher, the river showing
full its flow to the town
and its banks moistening?
Easy to feel a crocus, any of us,
and I'm sure their fragiler kin do,
as I do. A one-day Spring,
maybe, but who can resist
a green stretch out of that long
coiled retreat beneath, self-dry
so freeze passed through
without us bursting? The sun is bursting,
and see, the river rises--the clouds are high,
tomorrow. What calendar but buds?
Mustn't we begin?

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