Tracks

Pulse pulling at the ears each new tune swooning silently through dreams upstream a skiff that wobbles and sways with the wind while sounds stick and guard my heart my head falls into every old scene gleaming globes of yesterday's first hug and kiss miss those moments when they play at random yet each time they are still there care for old thoughts cause they're brittle and tend to break like a crumbling sand castle spread across this deserted beach is a place for each but watch those surges those heavy waves so they don't devour the foundations you'll need them when you're alone

Picking Flowers

Picking Flowers

1. 

A violet rose may rise from rubble,

leathery petals poking gingerly upwards with a slight swoop,

ripe stem, stingy about rattling wind, 

barely peeking above the taller grains,

stealing all the sun will give,

just starting to spread into its true form.

2.

I've collected daffodils, jasmine, sunflowers, and all.

Tucked into my jeans, leaning elegantly waving 

to those weary wanderers passing by.  I can't decide

which smells the best, keep asking each particular nose

to choose the fragrant champion so I can finally rest.  No

way to distinguish from them and along the mountain sides

I still attract fancier foliage that tug at my eyes and flair 

my nostrils.  Is scent a curse, a bane?  

I can't decide.

3.

There once was a ghost lily that fell in love

but it couldn't be seen.

How many times he passed by her without perceiving

her fluttering petite palms calling.

If only I could sing, she thought, then he'd

surely saunter over to my mellifluous sound.

In her dreams, he whispers about a smile that

seizes all motion, that resembles the sun.

I know love only through sight, she nods,

and in his sight I see.

Never failing to dance with his exact steps,

the ghost lily lounges in his comforting shadow,

waiting for the moment he'll finally turn around.