The coreopsis and the catonia astor
Divide the hill.
Back off! You're blooming in my face.
Can't you see the thorns you wield
Belong in a less sheltered field?
She want beauty in her garden.
She is driving out the mountain beaver
Juan is equipped with a sharpened cleaver.
Machete wielding alien.
I will take my place.
Then blossom into mace
Outscenting Catonia astor
Knick knick, and juniper
Taking the hill by storm.
So move your sorry roots, Astor.
Nettles fold, ferns hold
And Coreopsis erupts
The hydrangea and the pampas grass
Blue, then pink explosions
Wistful, spiked emulsions
Counterpoint to my gold crowned effusions
Coreopsis rules the hill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.