the full (fool) moon (glowing orb) has tag teamed
our collective psyche with vernal equinox
the crows have begun to caw with more force
announcing the return of getting some shit done
red buds of tree (not the purple of redbud official)
are popping up high on the mountain above my basement apt.
as well as along the interstate I pretend to move upon
yellow forsythia flashing me sexily
contemplation upon finally building
that pyramid of creeping phlox
angled towards the sky
an altar of earthen work
dedicated to nothing
except the power
of lounge
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