"what could be greener?"

you know spring is over
when you go outside
and think to yourself
"what could be greener?"

"what would you like?"

i would like to feel strong,
i would like to feel bright,
i would like to feel loved,
and i would like the western omelette
with cheese and rye toast, please.
and coffee. thanks.

Orchestrating the plumes of cascading pigeons
bursting from the iridescent fountain like a sunburst

And waving the baton of a trembling rook in his right hand,
Pinched in triumph – index and middle finger, thumb,
Suspended in air like words from God’s lips --

Matt crashes the piece down
And the circle throttles – explodes counter-clockwise

And the pigeons cover the sky in a million scattered blotches
As the people standing by idly surrender
and succumb.

- by the IOD

Drawing “x’s” through the days in his journal
And cutting out pictures of faces from the obituary,
Matt withdraws currency from a bank no one recognizes,
From a teller no one sees
From a time that folded in upon itself

But this is his mission – deemed a routine by some,
Mocked by others as trite and hopeless –

Yet Matt sees none of this:

“Roll down your window sill, close the curtain,” he says,
“And descend down the stairs and into the field,
So I can see all of you in plan view.”

But will they accept this offer?

Will they make a bargain with this frail night guardsman,
Plucking cherries off a withered vine,
Arranging them on a table, his breath icy smoke, barefoot,
Tiptoeing lest he awake the slumbering millions emblazoned in light?

by the IOD

poem

"be still, the sparrows of despondency!"
matt implores, gin in hand
convulsing in ecstasy at the thought
of gregg's name

- by the IOD

we have no chemistry

over an expensive dinner and fine alkaline wine,
my longing ions reach out for your hands across
this white-linen periodic table of elements;
but all you have to offer are some noble gasses