abandonment and recollection.

racing
tying up laces
and letting go

looking for the highest hill
the spark
the evening breath of sunlight
cresting, just ahead

air moves in, and out

rewind--fast forward

all the miles spent traveling
moments together
a glimpse, pulling backwards

older memories speed forward
each pound of the foot
draws them in, and out

spinning at the top of the hill
yelling, screaming, shouting
tiny pricks of grass, flattened

sprinting back down again

weeds

tiny sprouts
crowding my cucumbers
a poor decrepit species on the end
aged edges

i have no problem crooning
power ballads, love songs
anything to coax them along

feeling guilty that this plant
appears to be less loved
evidenced by the wilted stem

the rowdy tomatoes are becoming unruly
testing the boundaries
tiny yellow flowers

weeding, i pry secrets out of the earth
places of growth, flood and drought
asking the beets for forgiveness
for not giving them the love they deserve.

i just like cucumbers better.

opened

filled; from the inside and outside
broken from the ribcage
split at the seams
searing free

books that make me cry

words taper around the edges
of yellow-
green leaves glinting
in the sunlight
under underdeveloped apples
on the blankets
of afternoon
and leisure
stories slipping by
into the crevices of
grass, patchwork shaded
kaleiding
glazing onto ripened
hair and fingernails
moments of being alive
but mostly living

Inbox.

Your name has always been at the bottom of my inbox,
popping up again, and again, and again.

Deleted messages, important and not.
Notifications.
Altercations.
Vacations from face to face contact.

I leave your name there,
to reassure me that life is real.

How could I move you to the trash?

Or maybe, I just like the little flutter my heart makes,
when I read your name.

incomplete, tomorrows

entering
the dew sounds like bells
clear dawns

dreaming of
red pickup trucks
empty roads
sneakers fly for miles

soundtracks spin
gamboling guitars

packing
suitcases full of possibilities
as new as a bride's dress

carelessly
feet proceed
over cliffs

oceanscent

the beach isn't a place, it's a smell
spf clouding the air
hovering like a haze
mingled with the aroma of heated skin
at its most basic
unpolluted by human grease
sea spray
salt, not chlorine
drifting out onto land

Corner Windows

Frailties
Caught between corner windows
Voyeuristically peering through
Transient.

Buildings, stoic and reassuring
Built to last
Reduced to their earth bound status
Glass.

Eyes see straight through
Between human irrelevancies
Ahead to crumbled tomorrows
Excessive.

Blue sky
Doesn’t knock
Travels in through the front door
And out the back.

charming

easily rocking
patches collage and collide
displaying shadows from the hammock above
abandoned in favor of cool, dark grass.

casually, leisurely
words strolling by on the page
lives and relationships
created and illuminated
by mid-afternoon sunlight

interrupted by easy footsteps
blocking the sun
and laying down a bowl of strawberries.

reaching into the pale blue bowl
expansion of flavor
red stories made sweeter
by the kindness of a charming young man
delight in good fruit

Each.

Knowing life would change,
the dew
slowly, bitterly appeared on the grass.

Each drop, to each blade.

Each clinging like I did to the symphony in my ears,
filtered through the latest album.

Weeds, without notice, rampant in their enthusiasm,
sprouted.
Leaped out.

Forming shadow jungles for my pleasure,
in the dusk.

Imagination to spark imagination,
shimmering with tomorrows
each an unknown.

While I watched, while I stared,
each evening faded.

Breathing in the absence of anything else to do
inhaling words

Waiting.

each day, each hour

breathing ripples across my back
arching

dormant, unaware

outside
branches defiantly wave at the miserable wind
gleams of daylight remain
resting on the tired grass

tensing smaller and smaller
one point

restless, fearful

boxes lay in disarray
without homes
no order remains

fitfully fingering the air
cooled blue

Moments

Precarious.

Walking parallel to the sidewalk,
missing the bumps, cracks
Sharp winds.
Hands forced deep inside of
unlined pockets.

Eyes closed.
Into traffic.

One moment, one instant.
I see you. And you're gone.
A vibrant display of the fragility of life.

I watch you retreat, wondering.
What would it take?

Each crack,
a spindly earthquake story.
Small forests,
populating the canyons.

an afternoon

one.

mildly ruffling
each limb
a curving masterpiece

brightened by the late afternoon sun

needles feathering downward

behind
a window waits
bordered by brick

rectangle panes

two.

shadows creep
the crevices of bark
darkened

sinster greens speak

three.

one last streak of light
splays across the scene

trunks bared

Circus Life

I want to sing,
but I have no tune.

Deep down,
there's a diva.

I reach out,
trying to fly
alongside your trapeze.

Straining for your fingertips.

The big top swirls,
the animals roar.

Beastly lions,
and courageous tigers.

I stand in for the ringmaster,
who is working the popcorn stand.

Feeling inadequate,
as I look around.

Everyone performs,
ingenious acts.

I only observe,
but I want to sing.

This tuxedo is large,
too large.

Chaos reigns in this circus life.

lights

bits of glass
remnants of small bulbs
lying hollowed

empty sockets

half goes black

strands stringing endlessly
with and without purpose
leaving claim to the fragility
and purpose of each individual

one misplaced word

half goes black

Solid Ground

I.
I was in love once.
Kind of.

It was more of a movie love, you know?
My heart raced whenever I sat next to him.
I thought our characteristics equated mate puzzle pieces.

But I really knew because my heart broke when he went away.

And then, I realized,
There was no lasting power,
And no mutual agreement.

Making my "love" anything but.

Leaving me to match phrases in books to something...
that may not have even mattered.

II.
Something real, something tangible.
As worthwhile as sand trickling and lodging on the webs of my fingers.
Romantically, our eyes meet lovingly.

But I really know we're more of a giggling sort.
And that didn't really happen.

Scratch that, start again.
I want a few years back to build a wall.
Of bricks.

This is what I think real is,
But maybe I should plant a tree.

outdoors

thick and ragged
extending to the sky
coated with the still clumping
spindly
snow
leaving shadows on the lower branches

perched above
watching the giggling glimpse
of a bright green coat
trouncing around the trunk

tracks down the road
barely visible
each minute bringing a fresh layer
covering

Expectant

The guest list was set
along with the table
shiny crystal glasses
and waiters ready to serve.

The scene was opulent
stunning in the details
scraps of velvet stitched together to make
a chocolate, liquid evening

Time ticking, sinking deep
sadness making its rounds
curling up into my eyes
when the guests don't arrive

All suggesting the need for low expectations.

doubts

old songs read like a rainy day
coursing down the narrow inlet on my back
winsome, my arms unfurl
mocking the disbelief gathering in my eyes
unsure that anyone ever meant, "an awful lot"
or that anyone ever will again
songs from strangers being the only chance
anything else being too much to hope for
feeling the memories drip away
and the creep of resolved cynicism

green eyes

jealousy
comes from a threat to ownership
which is why i'm so defiant
jealousy
is easier than rejection
and confrontation

cozy little imagined boxes