everyone around you is greiving

Category: 2019: open poems

blood and water

flood and wonder

blah blah blah

don’t go under

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my sparklehorse postcard, these days

consists loose twig and purple ribbon

a pail of lunch on the horizon

a unicorn morning in the making

it is a deleted text

to an old friend

with a flannel back pack

and no phone –

last man standing

caught in a mirror

stoned and done

twilight zone

rain on the suit

crowded dreams

on the strip

drips motionless

the smoke and

the vanity in

the glamour

and the shining

dime store diamond

closed and drooling

sterling silver

and fresh blood

on the menu

the vines when raked

don’t fall far from the walls

swamp mist and chicken shit

palm fronds as big as a toad’s tongue

ripe as rain

silence and thunder forever

etched

 

I’m in love with a perfect poem

and I should know, I’ve writ a couple. Only, this one, isn’t mine, it’s yours. And, I have not read it yet. And you have, not, written it yet. I am in love with it all the same. a good poem. an honest poem. a poem about the rain a poem about dirt and whisper and laughter and fireworks and color pencils and

I started a poem

it was just a small poem

we were just kids

fascinated

I never told you

I still write

it

take me back

remind me. set my feet into yr dirt earth. we were sentient once. it came like a spasm. a coming of age. there were wooded bowls for soup. we had a limousine furnished from scrap tin and make believe. the cashmere in the closet, where the rats fed, so young, so fast, everything eye liner and shadow, i learnt from sage. from ocean and sand. from clouds to doom. all of it. in one belt. one sitting. one life line, as they say. ribbons in the wind, if you will. i remember back seat and tape player. john lennon’s julia. wind in my hair, i played it over and over. high as a kite, my eyes were red and my hair was green, and i was wearing a dress.