Thursday, May 16, 2013
God’s Little Pests (An April Minnesota Poem
Winter has cleared up in Minnesota, the box-elder bugs are coming they know when the snow stops falling on the rooftops of houses: the house bends and stretches—the chimney necks stop smoking and seemingly reach toward the sun. God’s little pests are man’s Minnesota almanac.
Note: as I write out each poem, let’s say this poem “God’s Little Pests” words run often times together, like images, it is a system forming in my head, it may not be well in order at first, but I seem to ironed them out in time, and remember not all poems have to rhyme.