a chorus of crazed baby chicks!

[size=75](Provoked from fireworks outside my house, prior to Guy Fawke’s Night.)

What radicals you are blowing up in suburban streets!
Startling the solemn households from their quiet Sunday
breathing, lighting up a thousand tiny troops of Civil War.

Anarchy! Streets Run Amok!

In flocks you burst and scream, a chorus of crazed baby
chicks being strangled,a thousand wild light bulbs sent up
into the air blowing,
exploding
bouquets of flowers, flying out
like burning feathers.

You fizz and whistle like sparks of fat!
Breaking the rude silence of safe
towns, reminding us of a war
just
round
the corner, or
to shut the curtains, lock the door, and always
blow out candles.[/size]

You know, I’ve figured out why I like your poems, Colin. They’re all just so damn full of life! Each has a childlike exuberance, even with the ones the subject matter of which is not necessarily exuberant. Your writing is very much alive. Good stuff. Always good stuff.