The Garden

Sitting in her garden
I resolve to reflect a positive life outlook.
I begin a spiritually affirming list poem.
I like fish swimming in a pond.
Birds are good—they sing a bit.
Ducks are decorative but dumb.
Snails pillage in the sunlight
trying to destroy all green life.
Flora thoughtlessly absorbs the sun’s
life force seeking to open buds & pods,
dripping with nectar into
the waiting nothingness—of it all.
Clearly—negativity is creeping
into my narrative—but so many freeways
so circumscribe my life—so surround me.
That I am forced to breathe processed fumes
from ancient Arabian dinosaurs.
Steady on—I tell myself
up with the affirmative!

I dream of the sea—mother of humanity.
Yes, life affirming—primordial ooze to amoeba,
to Nazi Superman. I am waiting for this disease
called humanity to be discarded—left desolate
in the outhouses of human history.

Petty rodents try to undermine every garden,
as petty bureaucrats use weasel language
attempting to undermine every free country.

The sky grows dark over The Garden.
Wind rushes trees & slanted rain
cuts into the outstretched palms of plants.

I gather my life affirming poem,
while over the fence– cars splash
through acid filled rain.
Inside my digs, I ponder the metaphysics
of being a positive green party advocate
So—I changed the title . . . to: POLITICAL RODENTS
SUCK THE CHLOROPHYLL OUT OF THE PROLETARIAT.
Do you think it’s too long?

Personals

I woke to the
personals in the LA Free Press:

Kids grown, dog dead, coast is clear!
Minimalist seeks woman!
Theater & fine dining & worshipping me!
Transgender seeking stable couple for fantasies!
Independent, fat & stubborn & deserving the best!
Soulmate sought by spiritual sex vixen!
Theater, travel, fine dining, no anal!
Wealthy one sought! age/gender unimportant!
Sinner seeks Jesus Christ!
Buddhist into rubber & water games & pain!

I stare out my kitchen window as
two seagulls hump each other
until the widow next door
turns the garden hose on them.
They shiver & steal away into the bushes.
I watch bees assaulting flowers
& hear the heat-cry of the neighbor’s cat!
Across every city park–pods are opening.
& throughout the county
every garden is dripping with nectar.

Ahh… spring has arrived!

————

Steve De France MFA has traveled widely in the United States. On more than one occasion he hitch-hiked across America. He rode rails on freight trains, worked as a laborer with pick up gangs in Arizona, dug swimming pools in Texas, did 33 days in the Pecos city jail as a vagrant, fought bulls in Mexico, and dove for salvage off a small island on the coast of Mazatlan. He has won writing awards in England and in the United States. And recently was nominated for the 2009 Pushcart Prize. He continues to write poetry, plays, essays, and short stories.