1,2,3,4

So come with me sunflowers
Masquerade yourselves in cloaks of humid forgetfulness

A hand a petal a liqueur
Sweet and welcoming find what truth hiding
Amongst locations left unknown:
Along shorelines littered
With millions organic mirrors,
Where are we in these grains of sand?
Slowly digging further into out of habit
Maybe out of hope
Are we trying to feel more
Trying to feel all the minute interpretations
Of our own existences at once?

Leaving nothing to chance
Collapse waves beckon wheat forevers
Come with me sunflowers,
We’ll dream restlessly
Waste days away entranced by sleep fever hazes
Wander stubbornly stuck near bloom
Rotating from season to season
Water to wine reason to reason,
What light shines on a single moment-
Dusty windowpanes revealing a rainbow of colour,
What truth is there when a minor shift in perspective
Reveals so much more,
How can we possibly persist in not knowing truly,
What we are?

Sunflowers bright and safe
I’ll admit that this life is lost upon me,
Your company brings comfort
A warm blanket to cover this cowering frame,
Under shade your body an umbrella
Sipping sweet and welcoming,
What truth
What truth
Falling asunder settling to horizon
Sunshine sediment falling,
Falling away
Our shadows merged together,

I felt at peace

Seeking Physical Presence In A Stock Photo

Teenage intuition seeks alternatives to baring witness
Conversations  delayed till no longer relevant

Legs run
Tracing root systems to river’s edge
Flames whisper from peripheral’s blur
Time capsule’s accordance
Flesh is buried
Trinkets sewn of heart string
Reunite with hand prints on hinges
Pulling heavy breath through narrow openings
Stumbling still abled
Safety in knowing but not showing face,
Translated shoe laces missing
Tied a knot somewhere
Stopped the bleeding for a little while longer
Scrapbook sheets left behind
Licked a stamp as last chance exit
To be returned anywhere
Except every moment not shared

A picture framed
Gravel roads kaleidoscope stained
Porch light projecting a phosphorescent montage of letters kept
Context shown as postscript flashbacks
Narrated by voices in tones of bodies present,
Pressed together pen under skin
Wrote in cursive slender yet elegant,
A signature and hyphen followed by
A smile with some numbers added
Replaced the thought of never seeing you

Feather Weight

A kiss creased into a back pocket
Smiled unexpectedly
In reference to a present opened on Christmas,
An item thoughtful and needed
Following a fence post wanted

A knock prior
Passively echoing a feeble voice
Whispering

Shake dry the sultry atmosphere
A brush of moist air passing through

Dive down stairs like submarines learning to sink
Releasing ballast out of habit
Plunge mechanical
Skin rusting
Oiled joints moving with effort
Onto couch cushions-
The very bottom yet just beginning to,
This is where it begins

Trading finger prints with hand shakes-
A continued attempt to show these arms are
Harmless
Continually striving for contact

Laughter asunder
Subtle oxygen deprivation
Pupils dilate in accordance
With action perceived,
Teeth reveal themselves
Peaking around the corners of a mouth worn upward

Ambient gossamers of cerulean float freely
Between
Two telescopes meeting-
Bashful harmony brushed gently
Into the inner folds
Of knees swollen,
Wading water convinced pressure
Could crush such a thing

A throat ladened dry
Spoke as if swallowed by
The undertow
Gave response to tension-
A note to be read
Until the words are wet and impassive

Diachronic Dissonance

Quiver gently
Onto tree roots and reach for me darling
River of mine, love of life oh,
Great companion in the journey of reincarnation,
Watching you erupt every season illustrated fearful
At once I might fall or want to jump
In, now it’d be an honor to drown,
Kiss your red-stained lips chip
A tooth on rocks eroded smooth,

This romance is unconventional but I know
The makeup of my body I know
Humanity is suffering only
Together and alone waiting,
I will wait for you river
If you will wait for me yet again,
A twist of hair braiding sediment
With sentimentality waiting for age to accumulate
Become a layer of limestone exposed
An adult I’ve grown into and still,
Close you are it is this feeling of distance
That can’t be consummated and how much longer
Will it be before in harmony our structures will be joined together?

This world is uncomfortable
My body aches in knowing I was once free-flowing
Thought process still stuck in a past life
An ear to earth I hear roots growing and I understand
What a sunset says but this tongue fails to enunciate a clear translation,
Panic stricken staying up late carving canyons into skin
As if blood and water are indistinguishable
Gutters abundant under glossy eyes
Crying in attempt to grow flowers and forests
How is it possible that at twenty-one
I’m no more what I will be than what I am?

A Moment Alone

Found a place to rest- a rotten log within me
Brought downstream during Spring’s flood,
Now all that is is a shallow river
Rapid only when snow melts and forests momentarily forgotten
Are able to flow and feel alive,

Oh visions of self-actualization
How violent you are,
How passive I’ve become,

A beach of sand and debris beckons these bare feet
To stand and sink,
Aspirations stutter
Beget a life without success
Unmoved by opportunity
Trapped by chance
Only by sheer force of violent circumstance
Is progress met,

A rotten log within me I rest,
Watching red roll over rock struggling
So desperately to turn white it’s summer,
There is no energy to be dignified
There is no energy left to roar,
There is no true desire
To be anything more than what today has offered,
There is only wish and fallacy
False nostalgia for what was or never will be,
There is no energy to turn white with triumph,
There is no energy to be acknowledged,
There is no energy to roar,

Gently into the night the river flows

Black and Red

Wary of internalized predation-a step forward
Towards the dimly lit kitchen
To gaze at a river whose movement
Appears to have been reversed,
To watch a cat sneak beneath
The eyesight of an unsuspecting bird-

Lunge and tear
A swan song sung
Briefly by warbler

What honesty comes from nature?

Puff of feathers floating I fell asleep
In the time they took to hit earth

In truth I felt more sorry for the cat

Apparently

For Friday and possibly for always

Pose a question
Mark bent into exclamation
Rushed from asunder stumbled to gather

A glass of lemonade
With dashes of lavender
Would be refreshing
Sipped through an initial burst of feeling piqued
Something once experienced
Rusted over
An accident aged and placed on the shelf
Of an antique shop

Unrecognizable
as water reflects the presence of health
In the absence of body,

Mackinac waited for us,
Waved as the car drove over Michigan
Spoke softly to Huron
An understanding
Listen clearly
Possibly always

The tongue protects memory
Wrapping each with degradation
Of reality and actuality
Placing a fire where
There was none before
Ward off sharpened teeth
Smoke drenched
The bugs won’t bother,

Habitual garments worn for assurance
If visible it won’t be noticed,
Clothes kept close
Weighted with a slate scraped clean
Set the table and laugh
Everything said
Is all in my head
And so are so many
Other things