MARIGOLDS?
Arch, foil, vault, height - this
bridge seems soaring over water
while far below it some faint
Brooklyn odor of its own
disrepair sits waiting. Look
up, John Mannerly, look up.
This is not the only world.
-
Here small flowers yet grip the
soil in a stunning disregard of
late Winter toil. So tired, but
aren't we all, on the one-tone
bleak spray of the season?
-
Too many flowers like these,
too early; the mind goes bleary
just thinking of what will be.
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