Kenneth Pobo		THIS IS ANOTHER POEM about the sky-- a gray car about to crash into a gray house. Spring will come. And sing the blues. Of a sky. A blue corydalis by a false indigo. Such a slippery sky slipping by on wind, the whole thing sliding,		HOW TO LOVE WITHOUT CLINGING Our coral Peruvian lily stands beside an Oklahoma zinnia’s popping pink. A purple bee airport called Butterfly Bush has some near misses but no crashes. White hostas smell sweet as the dime store’s perfume counter. And to think, this only lasts a few months. How to love without clinging?