The Marrow of March

For me
a certain tilt of Earth’s head
the equinox
eighteen and a half degrees
revolving round its axis so they say

nay t’is all attitude say I
and so say the orange newts of Dunsinane
and the enraged eaglets on the rocky crag

cosmos has confusion up its sleeve
pulsing in neat solar revolutions
lest pendulums in the planetarium
and atomic clocks
scribble over the stripes of time

i know I was born on a random day
or t’was the twelfth house
of a seventh zodiacal pretense
charted out by the gloved hand of destiny

born on a day divine
when insouciance
kissed wild salmon at the foot of Kettle Falls
long before man’s dams were built
to trap the run off at the equinox

the decision for next year to show up at all
hangs on the balance do you hear?
no planet has completely made up its mind
stubborn are the outgoing Newtonians
seated in their august chairs
man’s purpose is it?
by the word of this or that god was it?

nay the hand of me pushes you out
from this pub into the street
to fend for the mathematical sum of yourself

t’is spring don’t you know
very rational very very.