Filed under: buds
james dean popped collar
i heard you roar in the dark
calling to the fire
Filed under: flowers
sabrina
shane
sour keys
soul
smoke
silly
sweatpants
seat belts
states
stop signs
sights
starry nights
sunglasses
summer
o’seven
snap back
same
smile
Filed under: wildflowers
before the bloom,
before the bud,
before the rainy days,
there was a seed.
she was born six pounds.
a dozen grapefruit, world’s tiniest horse.
she was a very good baby.
slept on schedule, loved her vegetables;
she was very happy.
always glowing a giggle
from her sweet potato smile.
a child of the light,
she loves the sun and the stars alike.
when the wind whispers, “move.”
she gallops.
and when the music is played,
hearing the colors of her soul,
gypsy eyed,
her shoulders jive.
she rises.
she rose
until one day
came the pause.
dark clouds rolled over,
and the sky began to rain.
it rained on for days and weeks,
but akin to her stretch upward
the sky one day
stopped.
she began to bud.
out of that bud
unfolded petals
of bravery and laughter,
of soft kisses and strong legs.
of bold warmth, and purple freedom.
she was luminous.
the seed
still buried
deep inside her chest.
the wind
still aiding
her gallop
home.
Filed under: weeds
it came
pouring out.
(i thought i understood.)
the parts that make the most sense,
the connections,
are loosely tied to blanks.
as if
after all,
a mad lib of
whimsical nonsense.
there are
tiny truths
exposed
throughout the retelling.
i thought it served the bigger picture.
fancied myself
the wiser one
leaving gaps
in your honor.
i was wrong.
Filed under: just a season thing
before i met you
the solar system
had nine planets.
we will always know
nothing
of what lies
before the headlights
true north
since the first time
i heard your name
the solar system
reduced to eight planets.
the galaxy’s
reaction.
pluto
has been
stripped
of exception.
with no objection
we all move on.
tonight
the moon
will rotate
around you.
tomorrow
the sun
will circle.
i will not know
if you prefer coffee
or tea
in the morning.
will not know
if you snore
loud, or at all
through the night.
we are strangers
in the realm
of eight.
moon dust
and sun beams.
only
sweet dreams.
sweet heart,
the gleam
in your eyes,
stars in the sky,
make me believe
nothing
as certain.
the scientists are always learning.
the astronauts are always learning.
you and i are always learning.
all the things we thought we knew.
how faithful we are
to say
see you
around.
Filed under: buds
even that guy felt bad.
wished me well with his hand uopn my shoulder.
following up his assurance of a positive outcome with a slight squeeze.
i saw it all at once:
the scalpel dragging across the tips of my collarbone,
the staples, the stitches, the gauze.
solly says, as with any surgery
there are possible side effects
but the only one to consider
is a slight change to my voice.
then he told me about the post-op painkillers.
as it turns out he was right,
having this tumor grants me a few perks.
Filed under: before the bloom
when we met, you were
cobblestone streets in prague,
great expectations,
the man in the moon.
inspired musings continue
to pile up in my notebook,
your mail box.
Filed under: wildflowers
i saw
a magnolia tree
on my walk home
this morning.
i took pictures of it
with my cell phone,
saved one
as my wallpaper.
any other day
i would have regarded it’s
honey bloomed offering
in passing.
this morning
i stopped,
admired it.
i was only
three blocks
from my side door.
i took
two pictures
of the tree
in full.
one
looking up
into the flowers
against the blue sky.
i wished i had
my camera
instead of
my cell phone’s
pitiful lens.
i thought of
sending you
the picture,
my phone’s battery
died
before i could.
there is
a magnolia tree
in your parent’s
front yard.
the pink
flower petals
droop
but the smell
is so much sweeter.
Filed under: flowers
25 years
of
plaid shirts
and
sweet guitar skills
in the making
here you are
25, alive
as awesome as ever
Filed under: before the bloom
gun shots, gold-chains, and grits
and he’s like:
baby, baby, baby.
oh,
and she’s like:
why are you talking like that?
great.
no one will understand
this poem.
except maybe dia,
because she remembers everything
and we’ve had plans to bake
and drink dark rum and cokes
for weeks.
so we text a lot,
keeping the jokes running,
it seems the polite thing to do.
see i’ve done it again,
gone off topic.
thinking: while they rap in my ears about
leaving casings on the concrete,
i know they live
in gated community’s
because i’ve seen them on mtv cribs.
i’m jealous of them, either way.
i’m not a soldier,
soul
is all i’ve got.
and it stings.
how soft people are.
how on the inside
we are all the same
blood and guts.
at least
mine will be sprinkled
cupcakes and booze,
if dia ever makes it
downtown
around the side and
down the stairs
to my new place.
