beat. chirp. pulse. chase.

he told me to be happy i must learn how to forget.
at this, i quoted Rukeyser:
"what three things can never be done?
forget. keep silent. stand alone."
we laughed together, somberly.

the grooming is the gossip that's become licentious libel,
sprawled before us all in an orgy of indifference.
i am not indifferent,
though i may, someday, learn how to forget.

there is a small unknown organ in my body,
that aches, crawls angstly upward toward the heart.
it stabs at each injustice, and emits a putrid waft.

temper these mean stabby things with the balm of balmy daydreams:
there will be dirt enough to call our own,
in which we'll make things grow.
inspiration wrought from the crashing shore,
and - dare i say it? - even more:
a pup, for sure, and a family, you.
yes, we'll soon escape this human zoo...

spring has sprung, like the world at dawn we come to life,
smash winter like waves against the shores of being-
a cacophonous canopy of pouring pitter-pattering!
branches of rain and light, song for the scattering:
beat. chirp. pulse. chase!

© 2009 : Jenny Ryan