Last evening on the blog, we blew open the sealed archives to bring you early blogging output from my first grade trip to California. This morning, our look inside King Tut’s tomb continues with an ode to springtime. Carbon dating suggests that this was written in the Spring of 1988. I was in 1st grade. Formatting has been kept intact, where possible.
My name is Paul Hazen.
Spring Is Here
Lot’s of animals wake up from
their winter sleep. Robins and cardinals
come back from the south. People
start wearing short sleeves and
shorts. The weather is much warmer.
Cherry blossom trees are in bloom.
It rains a lot. The trees grow
new leaves. You can find pine cones.
Move over Walt Whitman. There’s a new sheriff in town.
apatheticallydecomposing 
The great thing about coming across old documents from childhood is that it’s like a brief encounter with another, stupider version of yourself.
On the plus side, your grammatical understanding of “a lot” seems to have improved from that utterly insipid recounting of your California trip.
On the minus side, your “Lot’s” mistake is even more embarrassing.
Also, the banality of your verses numbs the mind. There is literally not one interesting, semi-interesting, or not-brutally-uninteresting poetic phrase in this entire piece. Good thing your 6 year old self didn’t quit his day job of attending first grade, sloshing back 2-liter bottles of Regular Coke, and collecting unearned smiley faces from that hack critic, Mrs. June.
In my stupid defense, I’m not sure this was supposed to be a poem. It was written on that huge three lined paper so only a few words can fit horizontally. As prose, though it may be even worse. The line about pine cones is a genuinely baffling non sequitor.