.

first draft




another April show that tales white

thrusts cold against a hulking lurch

of docks lined-up along the edge of

winter, veils Mutes who bow between

the rows of rusty beams, who slip

their slender necks through icy swells

with oranged grunts, drip inandout for

gelid-muscled snacks and with one

final slap at airborne resurrection

from a griming bay that saves so few

from toxic black, they lift, and lead

the eye back up to sky, then down again

to snow on sand, to where a gritty-yearling`s

feathered slump along a string of days

dreams green and trumpetlessly leaves

for May with eyes that plead the whir of

Northern winds to pull a homeward-heavy

thrust of air through broken wings

and foggy breath that will not trick

a seasoned stroke of hope to life

nor beat back spring towards another

April show that tales white

second draft

Another April snow

that tails white

thrusts cold against

a hulking lurch of docks

lined-up along the edge

of winter. Veiled Mutes

who bow between

the rows of rusty beams

slip their slender necks

through icy swells

with orange grunts,

dip in and out

for gelid-muscled snacks,

and with one final slap

at airborne resurrection

(from a griming bay

that saves so few

from toxic black)

they lift, and lead

the eye back up to

sky then down again

to snow on sand, to

where a gritty Yearling`s

feathered slump dreams

green. And with no Trumpet

left it sadly leaves for

May with sighs that plead

the whir of Northern winds

to pull a homeward-heavy

thrust of air through broken

wings. A final foggy breath

that will that not trick

it's seasoned stroke

of hope to life but

beats back spring

towards another

April snow that

tails white.

"that we are all late
in a slow time,
that we grow up many
And the single
is not easily
known"


(Charles Olson, The Maximus Poems)