Archive | o RSS feed for this archive



On my porch when I left this morny

Belle Antebellum

Cat Vision

Queen of Flowers

She’s growing into flowers
she keeps coming by the dozens
She’s growing into a garden
She dances to the tap of rain
Stamping out green rhythms
and it drives the bees insane
Where does a golden red goddess come from
Somehow hewn from dirt brown earth
She begs me not to ask questions
On her origins or her profound prolonged delay
She showed up when she was supposed to she says
And will last as long as the summer sun supply
She hints that she’s not perennial
And will grow only so long after May
We can spend this whole time deep in living
Or watch, wait, and mourn the death approach
I don’t see anything but the spreading field
I don’t care but to be surrounded by a verdure scent
I want to believe so fully in permanence
That I’ll trade it for time in hell
We exchange powder for passion and a trust for trust
When she opens her petals upon me
We play a lie that budding will memory outlast
Pretend to think our little life is aside from time or space
Oooh, sweet melted nectar liquid on my face go into my mind
Steal me the sensation of what it’s like to be a dream
An iota of a sample of the life of the free
I’ve never looked around and see anything much less so much
and I give her back a chance to breathe
The sunshine on her head brought on the rouge of her blushing
Translating pink to another side of red
She’s growing into a forest
and here I’m living between the vines
I’m not the only one who is hiding in her place
There are voices not far off when we’re alone and in the night
There are too many obscure places that grim branches cover up
The whole thing was always a secret I’ll only ever know halfway
Never will you see the whole garden, it changes as you ask
When I think I’ve been speaking through a¬†¬†metaphor
It turns out to be more real than what’s true
A queen lasts only so long but always stays the crown
Her leaves start curling from green into decay
She wore it with her when she returned to the ground
A golden red goddess became again the brown
What she did for me was show for me what hid from me
Then left when winter grew

written January 27th, 2012

Whistle Creek

I dared you, and now it’s fall

The Chameleon Orchird

From a Dream You Had Two Years Ago