My garden's a mess
never at it's best
although things grow
they grow oh so slow.

I've mended the soil
and put in my toil
there are bees all around
and I've watered the ground.

I've rousted the insect
slugs, earwigs and miscreants
I planted in June
and prayed to the moon.

Morning glories abound
they twine all around
the squash and the shovel
that leans on my hovel.

I lounge in my chair
drink beer and stare
at the bees in their feats
Spearmint their treat.

Maybe next year, I dream
it will all be serene
right now no blue ribbon
I'd only be fibbin'.

The harvest no boast
but will raise a toast
to the bees and glories
in this garden story.

every word
you throw into the light
like a thunderclap

I get pins and needles
from where you grab
my wrist

electric taste in my mouth

so wind us up
like toy cars

and watch us scurry
delirious
as wild animals

in a hurry for something

to get out
from our self-made mess

to breathe free
from the labyrinth
made of ***** mirrors

let’s melt the icicles
use our words like fire

the roar of our stories
warm flicker of your voice

I wanna whirl
in the moment

swallow the blur

keep spinning

absorbing noise
and colour

our noise and colour

write a diary
in purple ink

bits of string
a coffee-wet finger

and still keep spinning
away from the maze

with you
and each second
that follows

I rode my bike
It's not a trike
Like it's heavy as steel
But one thing I can say
That may save the day
It's turquoise and pink
Which make people think
NICE BIKE!