Cleating corners to the sky
Cleating the april corner to the camphor sun
To the mentholatum sun
The sun's got vicks on his chest
The sun's got a rumpled comforter up to his horizon
The sun is up to his chin
With an april cold like nobody's business
So the trees just go about their business
Moving along the flowers like children at a corner
Past the disgusting yellowy old man
Herding them along with their willowy bows