On opening a can of inspiration
I find it's all chunk white words
in spring water .

It comes with a waring not to consume more than one can a month . Something about the mercurial thoughts that can spirit you away .

Jellyfish . . . I dont't think they go good with peanut butter on white bread . I was raised on peanut butter and bread . Without jellyfish . In the summer there were a lot of them in East Bay , Panama City , Florida . We went swimming and fishing so we got stung a lot . Crabbing too .

I used to get these huge acorns and stuff my pockets with them then run down to the pier with my slingshot made out of surgical tube rubber and shoot jellyfish as they floated by . Most were small but some were huge , more than a foot across . Those I would pump a whole pocket of acorns into . Actually through them . My slingshot would shoot an acorn through a galvanized garbage can .

Winter's were bleak . Well not compared to the rest of the world . But the water was too cold to swim in . All the fish migrated away . Birds too . Except for the robins that had migrated from the North to spend winter there . All the white birds had gone . Gulls , cranes you name em .

Winter brought moody storms full of tempestuous emotions and gale force winds . Their overbearing attitude dominated life for days . But eventually everything turns back into Florida . The land that has always been a pushover when it comes to the weather . You name it . It probably has had the most unfavorable weather of any other state . Hurricanes , tornadoes , lightning strikes , on land and people .

Tuna , we used to go off shore tuna fishing on a boat named "Tuna" . We  caught Spanish and king mackerel , dolphins (the fish) and cobia which I grew up calling ling . But never any tuna .
Sometimes we would fish on the bottom for red snapper which if eaten fresh caught is the best tasting fish in the world .

Toads ! There used to be toads everywhere just before dark . My little brother and I used to catch them and put them in a cardboard box until dark then release them . One night I heard my mother scream and I ran to see what was up . My little brother was in the bathtub with about fifty toads . I hear there are hardly any toads there now . Same for the fish . I wonder how the jellyfish are doing .

The  tulips  lift
there
smiling  faces
To  the  afternoon  sun.

­Keith  Wilson  Windermere  UK  2017.

if ever there were
gods or goddesses of desert
of the drylands
of parched earth some call home
they would be surprised to learn
                     of the miracle of
                           this Spring deluge
                                unfurling forth                
                            from deep within  
                        the crusty dermis
          of this sublunar territory:
          hydrangea and ***** apple flower,
          intermingling their hues
          of mauve and lilacs,
                              as well as the color of sky
                               blooms of the succulents
                    popping open
                    in celebratory dance
                                   in wild fuschia
                                sunray butter:
a dazzling botanic trance
          hollyhocks of magenta,
           veils of bougainvellia, too
                    sweetpea clusters
             curling in the trellis
weaving heavy-scented magic
through and through
a private orchard of lemon tree, and apple
olive and pistachio grove
One would not guess
the endless giving
of this desert treasure trove

And I feel like a goddess
              of mythology softly spun
like Demeter, or Ceres
ancient Egyptian Renenutet
my hands spread out
in the licks of gentle sun
for as spring pours forth its honey
all through this barren land
I , too reawake
and flush out all the infected,
dust-scratched sand
I welcome in
the waters of abundance,
of love, of light under stars
let new energy wash out
old poisons
my radiance spilling far
Reaching out unto the Universe,
cradling this heart
         I cup the buds of blooms,
                                      of nectar
to inseminate my dark
       allowing me
to release the past
and seed within me, lit
         the atoms
of  new
               start
unfolding bit
by tender
bit

This is the story of an aching love.
A hopeless schoolgirl kind of thing.
He was a basketball star player on
The Monticello Mustangs team,
Not showy, but quiet and a little shy.
He was glorious to look at
through the lenses of my brown eyes.
I had to work to learn his name-
it was Finnish, spelled Laulainen.
I said it lots of different ways until I heard
somebody say it right-
Ed     Law lie’ nen
All the bells rang out and bluebirds sang
As I crooned and whispered that magic name
In the quiet of my room.
I never had a class with him-
he was a year ahead.  
He wasn’t part of rowdiness
when passing in the halls
from one lesson to the next.
If he walked past I turned into
A pillar of salt dyed crimson
From the blood that burst my heart.
I don’t recall now how I came to have it
But I had a small creased snapshot of him and
I slept with it under my pillow every night.
I touched it and looked at it and imagined
him touching me.  The thought of him
kissing me was far beyond my wildest dreams
I suspect my mom knew it was there,
but she never said a word
And I guarded it like my virginity.
And my best friend had no idea.
He never knew I was alive-
he didn’t know my name.
I was one of the nameless girls
That are present but unseen.
One day I was sent to the cafeteria
For something the teacher needed.
Standing by the now closed door
Was God Who Walked The Earth,
Ed Laulainen in the flesh.
The shock of standing next to him
paralyzed my tongue.
I dared not look at him
and finally only said “Is anybody there”.
Did he answer - I don’t know.
I was terrified and in paroxysms
of ecstasy. I was sharing the same air he breathed.
He left Junior High for Senior High and I lost track of him.
But I loved him with ferocious fervor and wishful longing
If desire could have made him mine, Midas would have
been poor by comparison.
OccasionallyI think of him and the plain little girl who worshipped him.
Where did he go - how did  he grow - what kind of life did he live.
In ten more years the little girl could have most anyone she wanted
but the crinkled photo stayed in a trinket box for a long,long time before
it washed away on the tides of new loves, real loves, and living.
I wish I could see him once again to tell him the story of
the little girl who chose him to love with all her soul and first flush of emotion.
                                   ljm