The sky too blue,
it’s impossible to think.
Along the fence
the columbines bloom
in neon hues, split into
alien chambers, spurs.
Along the road,
banks of snow, no—
cottonwood down,
filling the air with fluff,
an invitation to float,
a call to subvert, a paean
to the arbitrary–
although they say
that finding personal meaning
in ordinary things is just one
of many signs of delusion.
Still, on the radio
three different times,
on three different stations,
I heard cha-cha-cha-changes—
and there was no giant
earthquake, of course,
that guess as good as any
attempt to tack sense
on to nature’s permutations,
that is, as doomed
as Bowie’s tracings–
while in the grass
a sleeping cat,
a brazen bird, just how
many ways this minute
could have went—
but this was it,
and now it’s gone,
and only the seeds
betrayed any sort
of motion.
OPTIONAL POETRY 
It is delightful.
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Thanks!
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what a fantastic poem, and the ending is so powerful. bravo!
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Thank you, Shellie!
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Where I come from, my first reaction to this poem is that it’s so good I have to say something like, “You stink.” It’s so good it gets my twelve-year-old-Wiffleball-playing-and-just-watched-my-friend-hit-one-over-the-maple-tree-and-don’t-want-him-to-feel-THAT-awesome-about-that-hit-although-it-was.
And it was.
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Are you originally from the midwest? I am familiar with this breed of compliment, so can truly appreciate it 🙂
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New England—Rhode Island, to be specific. Biggest little state in the union…
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Awesome
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thank you!
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What can you teach me English writing poetry, I also want to write a poem in which the words are such deep meaning, I Write poetry in Hindi but also want to write in English
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