Stumbling Into Spring: NaPoWriMo 2021 - 3. April 13th to April 18th

April 13^th

If bodies

are temples, as they say,

then mine must be an ancient ruin,

all its arcane rituals lost and forgotten;

the altars moss-covered and toppled,

no stone left upon stone

where they stood.

April 14^th

Like fire which races through a forest green

Consuming all that in its path may grow,

Or waters which the meadows overflow,

And all the fens and thickets in between

where nature stares defiance at machine,

still more as howling northwest winds that blow,

uprooting oak and ancient tupelo,

to leave nor branch nor bud in state serene,

comes raging through the blood a greater force

that draws anticipation into sense

delighting in your taste and touch which course

through every nerve, my joyous recompense

for hours of deprivation from that source

of pleasure that will drive all reason hence.

April 15^th

The heart is a wild horse

untamed by the head,

corralled but unbroken by intellect;

allowed to run free,

mane and tail streaming,

its muscles ripple with the pure joy

of speed, of wind, of self;

yet penned in and saddled,

the heart kicks, bites, then droops,

a shadow of its former freedom,

scenting on the wind

both herd and horizon.

April 16^th

The rain falls like a shroud.

Windshields gleam under the streetlights.

The only thing

the birdsong can do

is paint the darkness

with lurid desire.

I am without territory

to mark my melody.

The only thing

in my pocket

is a bundle of semiquavers

that rattle like spare change.

April 17^th

A bagel

on an endless detour,

by stretching the imagination

might eventually arrive as a pretzel;

the doughnuts’ ways are more arduous,

for they hope to become

coffee mugs.

The surface of a solid is defined

by curvature equations might explain

in detail of the algorithmic kind

which mathematics often must ordain;

(though understanding vectors is a plus

if one is to endure the rationale

for why we write the unit tangent thus

as better for the student’s frail morale).

If surfaces are concepts to sink in,

then on a detour might we not embark?

For if I trace a journey on your skin,

perhaps we’ll glean the nature of its arc.

Isometries in flesh we’ll gently probe

to pacify my sweet arithmophobe.

April 18^th

The preposition comes before

a noun, so one can all the more

locate it best in time or space

as movement toward the roof or floor.

When writing of the deer to chase

or tears appearing on the face,

a preposition tells us what

relation to the world they grace.

It’s not enough for jaw to jut,

for fist to clench or door to shut;

in which direction, tell which speed,

above, below, or in the gut?

Now ride your preposition’d steed

o’er rocky road or through the mead,

in London Town, from Labrador,

so every road to me will lead.