i am just going to put this out there now
to make midnight blush
and turtle babies crack their way to the sea
here it is:
children puffing pollen air bound in spring, empty stem in hand
ice cream dripping down chins and thighs on hot summer nights
lovers making just that in public where only a few can see,
(i know i watch)
remembering paris beyond the architecture, art in the people
harlots with sad eyes lit red, with a glimmer of blue hope
end or beginning.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Colorado
The sunflowers have frosted over and it smells like snow. I did not go back for a coat. Once I close a door, I do not reopen it.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Flowers
Sometimes it's amazing,
the things we call weeds.
blemish, spot, curse, scourge,
(even minor imperfection)
we cast aside veins and ribs,
doubt worth:
an ant's journey, carrying a wounder warrior home on its back
across a discarded leaf.
and in the blossoms bees massage nectar
and whether rose or dandelion, the only difference:
flavor
there's nutrition in dandelion just the same.
and while less sweet, there would be no balance
without savory.
so my friendly weeds, i celebrate you
with tender consideration of your rung
in the at once gentle and violent organic process
known as life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)