Late Naturalism
I’m becoming old,
or an older poet,
or just old in all the ways.
I remember being annoyed
by poets talking about flower names,
particular tree leaves, shrubs.
I couldn’t tell if the writer was
talking about a bloom or a blossoming rash:
lousewort, hellebore, pussytoes, clematis….
You can get the rest of the poem and the playlist at The Drunken Odyssey.
Stephen McClurg 