Long dark fur of blackest night
Round green eyes give sudden fright
Yawn her cares with stretching bite
Warms my lap when sits are right

I love flowers
But not the kind that are planted side by side in perfectly straight rows
or precisely arranged into a delicate bouquet
Instead I love the ones that grow wild and ragged along the sides of highways
Surrounded by broken glass and litter
Pops of bright yellow bursting alongside the dull gray asphalt
Free to grow in whichever way they please.

Keeper of the meaning
      Mindfulness a prelude
           The struggled literature
  it asked the way
The keeper,  
    contemplating the path
          Stopped to think about
       Natural things
Asking elders on the trail
Creating triads
         Depicting aspects  
                  of her answer
    To the question
What it means
And some;          
  were enlightened
             And air and breath and beauty
       Wrought wrath
Indigenous justices
    Things worth keeping
          To the keeper of meaning

Weeping bleeding memory tree
Who branches are heavy
When amber globes hang
And pop with sudden death
Smashed on
Gravitational wombs
Careen into cayenne powdered loam
They'll unfold Irises in the dawns morning
sputtering sparking electric dreams
where it grows beside the Styx

You are like my favorite book because every time I re-read I find something new .

I want to live
in a tin roofed shack
with a cooking fire underneath
that curls up its smoke
from under an iron ***
watch blue dark clouds
Roll in over the hours
so I can hear it's music
beat a rhythm out on my tin roof

Sorry sweetheart
mommy was drunk last night
Had too many alcohols
and she couldn't fit all
of the fruit snacks into
her mouth before
she passed out
that's why
the bed is covered in them
yes you can have some