I never thought I would fall for you twice,
but here I am writing this poem.
I'm just a dandelion lost in this greenhouse
surrounded by these blooming beauties.
But hoping, hopefully
you would make a wish out of me.
You've got this look that makes me crave adventure.
You've got mountains in your eyes
and the northern wind in your soul.
I can't remember the last thing you said to me
and that's okay.
We never talked much thanks to my anxiety.
I'm not too far but my words have failed me so many moons
how am I suppose to talk to you?
You've got your future gripped tight by the wrist
and my hands are lost in all this space.
Maybe sometime in the years to come, I'll discover your footprints
and remember my high school crush all over again.
I'll stop and think if you're out in California making coffee for people,
like I overheard you say you wanted to do in math class that one time,
or strumming a guitar solo on stage somewhere in the city.
I just hope wherever you find yourself in time to come you're happy and smiling brighter than the stars.
I know not much will happen in these last eight months we have together,
but I want to thank you for the day you introduced yourself to me because you knew no one else in the class.
I know I'm just a dandelion in this great big greenhouse,
but I'm just really happy that you noticed me.

She said
you are enough. you are loved.
You are
So much of what you fear can
Never be.

She said
There are no mirrors I can
Hold up
For perception once skewed see all
mirrors spotted

Your eyes.
So fickle and short sighted
That you
Can’t see what lays before you
Or just beyond.

A blindness
To all that is beautiful.
You **** hope
Before it may give you
Another chance.

There’s a silverback haze
on the shallow face
of the Rockwell Ridge
folded brow
puzzled chin
and dark hollow eyes
keeping watch
over the lilies
and crane flies
and will of the wisp

Rust brown ravens
and fisher kings
delight
in the reeds off north bend
(chased by the terraced streams!)
youth blades engrain
on the favoured
and historic
Banka Memorial

Mustard
and pumpkin skies
are clipped
by a call from
the resident loon
the sounds of Buddha Bar
piercing the silence
and shaping the afternoon chord

It’s a time to make way (stream side)
seems the anuran are courting

Wash away your expectations of me using soap and water.
I will sharpen my teeth
And weaponize my words
If it will force you to understand
How lovely it is to hate you
I was not born with such truth
To hand feed you lies