Cabbage Patch Blues
Mud is the median
Of dearth and flood
In this Garden of
Earthly Detritus.
The Luisenpark Park:
little old boys playing
giant chess under obsolete
scarlet pergola
Right next to the practical
Functional, punctual Imbiss,
Come ride the lurid
primrose chain drawn rowboats
Judder and jerk through the claggy,
pissed off captive flamingos huddled on
a muddy spit
shivering under bleak gaze
submission
Resignation to the cold war grey
telecom tower.
It scares proud erect,
savoy green voluptuaries
flourish about the subterranean root
The rest is waste. A weedy, rotting hinterland
of winter ruin and neglect. As I wince a
black plastic sheet sneers at my disdain.
I lean defiant on the fork,
earth yields to the fronds.
Resistance assumes novel
steadfast lopsided defiance.
Grimbeau 