There is so much concern appearing in the media and elsewhere right now about damage to the environment and the extinction of species; having just read Ali Smith's wonderful 'Winter', I'm struck by her firey critique of the relationship between art and the possibility of real change. I wish that poetry could do more to make a difference. Perhaps at least it can remind people about all that might be lost if we don't make changes now.
Here in Italy I've been enjoying the energy of May as I always do; there's still so much exhuberant life all around at this time of year.
Buds open; out they come
yellow butterfly wings
frilly-skirted wasps
impertinent spotted tongues
fluttering handkerchiefs
jittery space invaders
pollen fusillades
swarms of flying horses
pistil, anther, stamen
flame, keep on flaming,
bold as you like.
Here in Italy I've been enjoying the energy of May as I always do; there's still so much exhuberant life all around at this time of year.
Buds open; out they come
yellow butterfly wings
frilly-skirted wasps
impertinent spotted tongues
fluttering handkerchiefs
jittery space invaders
pollen fusillades
swarms of flying horses
pistil, anther, stamen
flame, keep on flaming,
bold as you like.
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