( s p r i n g ) c l e a n


every spring there is a clearing—first, a notice: ‘no cars in the lot for day(s), all day, for mowing ivy, etc., in front yard’; then, the sacrificial dawn: no lie in, no birdsong, no morning peace with black tea + poetry, only the harsh, grating jives, that revving + vremming alarm, eternal bruzzing, zuzzing, grutting, munching on detritus, decaying leaves, miserable branches, dirt, mud (that glud-glud-glud-glud intermission). every spring there is waste—first, a sweeping (though not clean, never clean) landscraping of wild bushes + young mosses, unruly hedges + spirited weeds sprung free from the shallow valleys between slabs of slate concrete; then, lush, dark green mulches to umber stratocumulus.

weed-hacking ivy,
hosing down guerrilla sloughs—
morning massacre

#napowrimo #neologisms



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