Vines that bind it together when I give them light.
Also there’s a lot of pages
Blank.
Because I’m bad at drawing snakes
Of stems, and petals new.
They grow so quickly,
Quiet.
Soon we’ll see a Spring-
The plants, and me.
And I can seek more than seeds…
Little rounds things that describe nothing of their root network
So I wonder if I should be around all these plants that don’t speak-
Though I do record the silence in a heavy green book.
I also meet
The ground, and the Earth
I think in my head how I could see the roots.
Or draw colludes of quiet life matter-
I think over and over.
I think, and the vines are not binding the book any longer.
Sketches that I spent so much time with
And their loving, long aged descriptions
Fall around me.
I meet the floor
Take all of my plants
And I run out into the thaw before Spring.
The Earth!
And your Sun!
I hold up my pages so to again bring life!
I’ve just drawn some pictures of plants
Many more blank.
The Earth
And the Sun
The ground
Seeds, and vines
Do not bind together what no longer belongs.
I see this
And I see the clouds
Folded quietly around the Sun.
I think
And envision a life.
Only without the plants to be my friends.
I feel
Like a lot is lost,
But in a tiny way
Like sort of a seed.
Carried on the wind.
Blown out of its deep, but fragile network of support.
Away from the book
Binding
Failed.
In those pages were pictures of plants.
I won’t tell you about them-
My friends, I mean
But…
I’ll float away from the Sun
Separately.
from april 11, 2022 poem from the past a day #42 taking on a persona and perspective of naivety, i look at the sudden state of having no friends after coming out. fortunately, i moved past this event in my poetry very quickly and started looking to the future.