Tag Archives: nature

the grower

it was spring and

my mind had withered to

hydrangea petals

all blue

twig fingers

scaling corners

of all the things

they could not touch.

 

i tried to say all

of where i’d been but

the earth pulled

at my elbows

and knees like

silk kite strings i

struggled to unravel

from around glass ankles.

 

taking flight was

a greenhouse pipe dream

i’d hidden in the

brightest pot

before i

placed petals where

my eyes used to be

and one behind my ear.

 

let them come, i thought

the grieving

chrysanthemums

might make

them think

of me

struggling to grow myself

somewhere out there.

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Lily Eyes

i’ve been packed in some

u n g o d l y   earth

like all of the dead i know

we are molding daisies

with our hands

 

her chest is

two perfect rosebuds

.         i close my lily eyes

perfume

leaves and cold rain

 

if i reach my branches

.                              a little
to the left

there are earth worms

digging their way up.

 

i try to dance with them

.         we twist freely in the dark

falling in rhythm with the forest

suddenly

i’m blooming like my grandmother’s garden

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i hiked mountains made of you

at fifteen i had fifteen reasons to love you. our bodies moved like broken caterpillars our mouths reached out like children we knew only texture, only colors, the sounds good things make.  your fingertips knew more than i knew of my own self i swore we were ancient, carved into slants and shapes that jigsawed perfectly, there was something we discovered only when our mouths touched when words hung above our heads like clouds when we reached out and traced constellations in our skin and we were fading and no one saw.  for a time i disappeared and every day was summer, butterflies escaped my shoulder blades i searched breathing pathways with the light blooming from my eyes i was barefoot even when i wasn’t i grew branches that covered me and  gave me rest i sprouted blades of grass where my hair should be i hiked mountains made of you, we lay always touching, always facing the same way. i wasn’t me i was yours, i was fifteen years of predictable science melting in thin arms. fifteen is funny that way.

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For A Time

Water spiraled out in rings
Like the ones in the trees
Like the ones in my head
Climbing up and fading back into itself
Reaching for any break in the routine

I ran rough fingers
Over the smoothest rock I could find,
A flawless grey lost in a mob of
Blemished red and orange
It was hidden deep,
Down by the cool earth
Down where no sunlight could reach

Thumb and index gripping both sides
A flick of the wrist my father taught me
I broke the surface with a plunk,
I threw myself into the river,
I skimmed the surface for a time
Until my momentum slowed
And I sank to the bottom
Tangled in a plastic bag
Tangled in some odds and ends

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Poconos Livin’

image

Writing and karate-choppin’ bugs.

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