Like all the novels I've read My mind is going to a climax And a climax means a splash in the pool. Boong. Boong. Boong. And your heart is full of water And your nose can't hardly breathe. Remember How black those pinetrees were that fire burned. All that black forest. And the noise (Splash) Of a single green needle.
Spicer's "Frog" starts with a joke that isn't quite a joke: the speaker's mind is moving toward a climax, like the plot of a novel, and the climax is imagined as a splash, a frog hitting a pool. The "Boong. Boong. Boong." reads like that sound repeated, or perhaps a heartbeat or a bell, building pressure. Then the body takes over: a heart "full of water," a nose that can barely breathe, a feeling of being half-drowned in your own tension.
The poem then turns abruptly. "Remember" pulls us into a different scene, a forest of pine trees blackened by fire. After all that buildup, the actual climax is tiny: the sound of a single green needle falling. The mood is anxious, then strangely hushed. The speaker seems to be saying that the big moment, when it comes, may be small, and that something still alive, green among the black, can make a sound.