Joseph Ceravolo

In the Grass


Here in the grass
where the flowers
walk softer than bids
to their nests 
in the clouds
Where the rain
falls toward the sky,
the small breath
of the insect
is like a breeze
before rain

John Ashbery

  The New Spirit (excerpt) I thought that if I could put it all down, that would be one way. And next the thought came to me that to leave a...