March Is Upon Us

And did it ever sneak up. Some of you have been complaining about how gray and depressing it's been. Here's a poem to keep with the spirit of the season:

Deep Queen of March

Come to me again

O maiden of this mountain

Beneath cool blue sun

Bathing the valley’s shadow

Together we shall drink iodine

In a mildewed shower

Encrusted with quiet appreciation

Wet with knowledge of nothing

Eels waiting to pull us under

Busting through the cataract

Boiling consistency of burning tar

The nauseous part of this

Started out pretty

Only to walk through

Five o’clock spring light

Feeling the cool and the warmth

All at once

Packing a stockless AK pistol

Beside her blade

Strolling to the summit

Then putting a bullet in her head

The only justified alternative

A bloody meal left for foxes

I could eat a round myself

Or just walk back down

The great eagle’s spine

Within ever gentle wind

Never passing where I started

We’re all alone