“Fukushima, Passamari, Spring” – By G. Karl Marcus

This intriguing beautiful poem was contributed to Boiling Frogs Post by G. Karl Marcus:

Fukushima, Passamari, Spring

Bow-legged two-legged, leaning on his hoe
peers for garlic, late beneath the plum.
Cuffs unbuttoned cut the wind like wings.
He veers a stretch of sky between limbs
and bed, tallying spears as if a golden
gauging hares. Planes his friends insist
don't spray poison for many good reasons
and returning geese persist against
the pelt of fronts. A neighbor's tom
deserves his adulation. Clouds decay
to cumulus and haze when no fields burn.
Fat Mouse dies without a kick in yellow grass.
Orach cotyledons pool in paths like blood.

Early spinach vernal under hog fence hoops
and plastic from the dump needs safe water
from the county's deepest well. Still, rain
threatens, at a hundred counts per minute,
not him so much but kids who play next door.
When did the world's backup generators seize?
The missing witness, shoeless on the tape,
muttering, stumbled- on by mistake
in a landfill heap. And this newest war,
when were there debates? He leans on stone
to sort intrusive roots from wanted stock.
One wind whips the town's flags all directions.

Doves weight air a gray he shoulders
like a bar. Admitting defeat so late and far
from sanctuary waves, snow geese argue
security measures all the way to straw. Truth
is north and hurts worse faced head on.
Land a million peasants hoed subsides
while dying aspens turn silver he can't save
and nations crash in gardens like the sea.
Aerosol merges dark as news in sky
when sun unwinds in tongues that peel his ears.
Teetering worlds lose bearings like bickering geese.
He takes the dog whose eyes beg for a walk.
She shows him when you turn you're halfway home.

G. Karl Marcus

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Comments

  1. beautiful work.

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