Sunday, April 1, 2007

Paradise A-Go-Go

The woods are silent
Except for the flipping
Of a musical score
In the gray wind.

Taps his twig on the podium
To ready his cast.

The choir invisible
With eunuch voices,
Can you hear them warming
Up with their infinite

Scales? Now the dark
Curtain of winter lifts.
The conductor taps again
And a crescendo of wildflowers

Bursts from the floor,
The color of stained glass
In a child’s drawing
With happy poisonous mushrooms.

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