TJ McPhearson/ Poetry/ Spring, 2017





spring is a kind of dying
the revenge of winter
in green tides of longing
and small fierceness of birds
in the sweet milk country

forgotten the litany of fire
the thinned and huddled blood
of discontent

on a good day i am water
that malleable prince

i see beautiful fools
stalking blind blonde summer
in the thickets of youth

i am smitten with the umbrageous
indolence of trees
the way air fits everywhere

i have found it takes a little hurt
to be approximately happy
and a long time to be late
riding the savage inconsolable limousine
of being


a billy budd song

–reality isn’t real

there is a foreigner in my skin
a stolen child carrying flowers
past the sagging balls of winter
to the buttered heart of spring
a billy budd song

among ancient edges and gristle of being
are heaped the long bones of the brave

we choose our colors from spring
but live in fall
thrawn cheshire children
poling the edge of evening
waiting to catch the hot biscuit bus
to any world deserving a dream

TJ McPhearson is a poet who lives and writes in Silver City, New Mexico.


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