Monday, May 9, 2011

Cicada Cycle

For 13 years this red-eyed bug

Or whatever dull form he was in the ground

Was in the ground snug

In forest mensuration

Till some divine sensation

Or natural regulation

Spoke in bug

Come forth

Shed your pork-rind of a shell

On oaks or pines or sweetgum

Then with all the brother bugs tell

The girl bugs to gather round

There is deep need in the sound

You make

& what you make

Will take 13 more years to come