APRIL 2024

 I ponder

The beauty and the despair of birth, 

the promise and the probate of a life’s reckoning

Neutrality is not sufficient anymore

Slumber is naught

In the inevitable march of Spring

I'm the stubborn gardener of weeds

The sprouting rupture of scabs

Bleeding me dry albeit

Watering my determination, nothing more

but a cloud of dandelion puff

Scattered but equally resistant to lethe

I fashion myself a neutrino flavor 

And jump in the line dance

Of being

Some god’s master plan

Of inoculation to pain