Now here we have our March

in all its slimy splendor,

when celedon sky’s tears

rust tree debris runny red,

when the sky’s iron fist

conducts all greenry

to reach out every tentacle claw

o’er all,

& rise,

the leaves,

the weeds,

the vines & ivy,

the brambles

& inedible berries —

when nature’s fetid trash

occupies winter’s white space

dashed with black pocks,

dry & lung-locked.

Now the sun & the rain

can breathe with ease,

cool & tame.

While February withers lost in quiet,

¡March storms the streets in righteous riot!

& raises back up the tossed-off blight.