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like any biospherian
I dangle from
the summer moon
with all this climate
change
we don't know what
to plant or eat
Er Papòn spooned
sheep hock broth
biancostato riveted with cloves
a single blade of bay
and half a hen
stirred with a love treen
tipped in lead
rainbows bled out
in the east
& clouds leaked years
of filament light
but now the valley's in
full bloom again
weeping linden
marinades the bingo balls
inside my head
a prasine torched retainer
flows from leaf to leaf
& moonrise frogs freestyle
their clucks & pops
among the river's
unmade bed
where once I pressed
one finger on the Witch's
hidden knot
released a rippling charge
give in to weather
if you must
she hissed
though I prefer
the drang &
not the sturm
the writhing &
the dry snap
finger click
of tailless serpents
sadly biting
at their necks
Varzi, 30th June 2018