So many check out the young, blushing days
Nobody saw this sunflower set
nobody yet all—

and how swift must the ends be
One jolly night and the moon passed out
an impure crescent—gnawed away

the sunflower stumbled and fell
bees swaying by the carcuss; wordlessly buzzed
an obsolete king robbed of jewels
—by his very own lovers

Nobody saw the petals leave
nobody yet all—
Abandoned for the crown could hold no more
pushed away by the wind, sold to dirt,
decolonized

—you'd pick them up; bring home
stir in a bubbling stew
—I'll take a shot, and you will

How lovely do words feel—how gruesome
running down my throat; sneak up my lungs
an old door creaks open—right inside this heart

and nobody saw the sunflower set
Fell and he bled then cried—
and the buzzing lingered but a blink

a few heard the sunflower set
heard but little—
heard still.

You'll look for more petals and I will.
—silently sliding them into strangers' bags.

Hear hear! There's a buzzing!
No? There is!
Hear now! It's loud enough.
Do you do? You? No one?
Well, I do!
A strange magical battle—
Look! There's a hornet's nest!
No! Not the sun. The nest!
Do you see the queen?
Right here near my hand. Look!
Can't you see? No?
The noise? But it's all around now.
Look over that tree!
The tree! That old, dead tree, right there—
There, the golden sun hangs, reeking with honey.

Look! The sun is puking glitter!
Hear hear! The buzzing's piercing my skin.
Hear! All is wincing.
Oh, take them away! Oh do run!
Run from the hornets, what else!
No, they're right here!
Look! One bit me.
Another one. Here! Right here they are!
Run! They're here, I swear!
I am bubbling up, can't you see? All is bleeding.
Leave me. Just go! Believe me—
Oh do hear!
The buzzing, the needles, the stones!
The shrieking, the crumbling, my bones!
No, I haven't gone mad!
The stones! The stones. The buzzing—
—tell me I haven't gone mad.

wild crowds—quiet towns
—empty as a sky
you sway like death herself.
the scent lingers where you
—no more do.

overflowing vacancy;
so known—unknown.
and wild crowds go wilder
and you—the town—roar.

overflowing silence
I’d hear you whole
if you’d stay—if you’d stay
if only you’d stay.

we could be so many things
and we chose this strangeness
wild crowds—wilder go
quiet towns—even more so

you, I
unchanged—
two impatient oceans
—still.

The ecstasy of gold is self contained inside my heart
in a spot where memory holds you in for all my days  
My silent eyes have touched you in a million ways
and my silent tongue has tasted you in every part  

My hands have cooked for you and poured you wine  
and lips of wet have traced your chin time after time
I am a gypsy soul that found her first reunion ring
and my caravan of love is you, you make me sing

I've sat with you in the parlor room right after bath  
and shared with you the linen breath of my youth
together we bloomed flowers and trailed our path
back to the future where we lived out our truth,

The ecstasy of gold is self contained inside my heart
I know that but have I ever told   YOU,  that !

November 1st, 2020

Passing fermented elixir
eyes lit with understanding
and sharp with interest,
the friends exchanged conversation
beating to the rhythm of their hearts.
Candle glow danced on their faces

Under the infinite zenith they
Whispered sweet aphorisms into each other’s ears
sprinkling giggles across the otherwise sleepy silence.
Voracious lips rode the edge of continence
causing delicate beads of sweat to coruscate
in the glow of the stars.

You were woven into my dreams
       and still are
   the rain trickling down the windshield of the van
     and the grey light shining through the dream-catcher.


         ...     ...     ...


        I couldn't determine
    your true wants and needs
   so I thought best to give you
     what I felt in my dreams.

A glimmering white stone flickered
in the depths of a murky snow melt pool
tucked behind a mess of brambly bushes
and surrounded by pine.
A man stepped into the frigid water
His handsome reflection (distorted by ripples) drew closer
as he reached in and plucked the stone from the muddy floor.
By inspection he noted its apparent imperfections
that hadn’t been visible from the surface
It was wrapped in cracks that had filled with dirt and grime.
“I thought you were perfect.”
He grumbled with dismay
and began picking the dirt from the cracks with his fingernails
which themselves became ***** and ragged from the effort.
He cursed and pulled a brush from his bag
And began to incessantly scrub.
The brush made the surface of the lustrous stone shine brilliantly
Yet seemed to force the dirt deeper into the cracks
So he reached for a needle
And began sliding it through,
scraping the stubborn grime.
His face wrinkled in acrimonious disgust
when his needle broke against it.
“I cannot enjoy a stone so riddled with undesirable scars!”
He scoffed
“I will find a better stone elsewhere,
One that is clean and pure.”
And he tossed the stone back into the pool.
(  ( ( ((plop)) ) )  )

Years later, a wanderer covered in scratches and dirt
stepped softly to the pool
and bent down for a much needed drink.
The stone dimly peeked from under a layer of silt and slimy algae.
He curiously reached in
and pulled it from the mud.
Rolling it over in his hands, he smiled and sighed
“Oh, beautiful stone
Once without contusions
but now weathered by the world.
You have survived trauma and time,
Yet still shine
so magnificently.”

He brought the stone toward his heart
and continued over the mountain pass,
Smiling pleasantly at the storm ahead.