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Two Poems for Spring

Worship of Eostre
Poetry throws a
seductive cloak
over me as I drive,
nearly forcing me
to the side of the road
to describe
cloud canoes purple
as a bruise, rowing
through gift tissue
mist hovering over
a virgin birch
seduced by the scent
of raw, thawing earth
into donning her bridal
veil and peignoir edged
with peeping, limey leaflings
the words of birds
warbling a wedding march
as manure spreads
in potent arcs over
soon to be pregnant
fields edged by grass
that glows so phosphorescent
in its revival it may
rise up and walk off
en masse…
Oh, what the hell, I’ll
just ————— pull over!!!
Eostre – an Anglo-Saxon goddess of spring,
perhaps related to Ishtar and Isis
When Mama Ain’t Happy…
We’ve covered the Earth
with a burka
of carbon dioxide and concrete
perfumed with petroleum
in an attempt to conquer
her raw, feminine power
and prove the magnitude
of our dominion over her,
which has initiated
a cyclical age of extinction
in which Earth
as Demeter goes dark,
not just for winter
but millennia,
leaving us in our own dust,
sloughing us off
like an edometrial lining,
or the infestation
of parasites which we’ve become,
in a menstrual renewal
beginning again
with perhaps more intelligent,
less ungrateful children
Vi Ransel is an activist, organizer, writer and poet living in New York City.

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About Vi Ransel