text spring up

across the street, windowed, a lamp continues its vigil as sky lightens beyond star text

and the willows in bear creek canyon, glowing orange-red against stone and pine–spring

burns from the ground up

 

after picking the miniature bouquet of yellow-orange crocus, niko went everywhere with the text

of fwower–flowers on our car ride, flowers in his bath–vase, a glass-house for a homeless spring

and under the glass of the moment, your health becomes a sound of its own when nothing moves the needle up

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nobility, then

let it not come
like a hospital.

let it not come unless
shimmering enormity.

if it shimmers, if I can feel it
shimmer, its edges
veils, its veils transparencies–

nobility, then.

I do not want much

but would rather be
one standing at a february window–

waiting–

an antique feeling congealing
in my veins.