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Healing leaves are now disrobed branches
on the edge of this wilderness.
Many tall Douglas Fir stand sentinel
over 100 foot tall amazing grace — the fleeting leaves
expose the beauty of the moss clad scaffolds
adorned with a lime-grey lichen lace
Nature is my refuge — solid ground to stand
in this harmony and peacefulness.

Jesse Stillwater — December 2018
Left as a comment yesterday, mused by "Healing Leaves" by Reena Sharma:
 Nov 2018 jaymie b
Give me a minute
To read the stars
Lamenting in their stories
Their laboured twinkling far and sparse

Give me this moment
To stumble and swoon
My branches reaching for
The faraway moon

Give me a while
To be one with the universe
Hear the colliding planets
As they spill their mournful verse

Give me some time
To plot my rightful place
Within my uncharted galaxy
And collapsing space...
 Mar 2017 jaymie b
buzz buzz buzz
say the bees.

studying for a test
but my mind won't cooperate
under this stress

buzz buzz buzz
say the bees.

writing a paper
but my thoughts are scattered
thanks to the little honey makers

buzz buzz buzz
say the bees.

i try to explain
that maybe it's ADD
because nobody would believe
that i have bees inside of me

buzz buzz buzz
say the bees.

i am walking around
without an excuse
with bees in my brain;
bees i can't let loose

buzz buzz buzz
say the bees.

even i have to admit
it's a little on the crazy side
to truly believe
that my mind is a beehive

but i swear if you listen
and watch me struggle
to make any small decision
you will hear the tiny, quiet, deafening

buzz   buzz   *
am i the only one?
 Feb 2014 jaymie b
my body
 Feb 2014 jaymie b
this is a series of brief letters to the pieces of my body

dear body,
we don't always work together very well,
but i swear i am trying.

dear hands,
the callouses and crescent moons in your palms
will not be for nothing.

dear knuckles,
aren't you tired of painting yourselves black & blue
every time words fall short of the fire burning behind my sternum?

dear feet,
you know better than to follow roads that lead to dead ends.
there are better places for us to go.

dear eyes,
you have sunken so far into my skull
it shocks me you see anything at all anymore.
you're fixated on shades of gray
but i promise the world will regain its color soon.

dear knees,
stop crawling.
this broken glass is from his bottles.
get up. no more blood.

dear shoulders,
it was never your burden to carry. let it fall,
and try your hardest not to feel guilty.

dear neck,
his hands will never make a home here,
and you are worth more than one night of empty bruises.

dear spine,
stop waiting to be warmed by fingers
that would reach for another body if they could.

dear tears,
do not waste yourselves.

dear ears,
you have been filled with ghost songs for too long.
stop listening for things no one is saying -
it will make life much simpler.

dear mouth,
i know these secrets have been threatening to break my teeth
but please do not open your gates. i am not ready.

dear skin,
we have never been close friends.
i am sorry for the scars.
i am trying to learn how to be comfortable in you.

dear mind,
if i could wish you into an etch-a-sketch
and shake you clean of these bad memories i would.

dear heart,
i hope you can forgive me for being so careless.
i feel how tired you are. rest is on its way.  

dear body,
you will one day see a grave,
but it must not be by your own hands.

- m.f.
 Feb 2014 jaymie b
roanne Q
 Feb 2014 jaymie b
roanne Q

for a fifth season:

a season unlike
the feeling of somebody,
synonymous to no one
but the trees, and how
they might be feeling

and an apology:

to the other four
i cannot undo.
dec 2012
 Feb 2014 jaymie b
roanne Q
when i taste,
i am alone.
i am alone in this moment.
warm wind making love
to the candy green grass
and nearby, my open mouth:
a summer of oranges and chlorine
and the idea of someone else’s lips.

a curious lightness of the heart —
but i come back to my tongue
and my tongue only.

a million aftertastes
in the autumn that followed:
pomegranates bleeding in the kitchen
while the swimming pools
began to close
and those lips:
only a moment.
only an idea.

with taste i was alone.

with Sound
came restlessness:
a fresh morning
crowded and sweet
by the noise of the sun
that chose us.
that chooses us, still.

the sound of the bathroom sink
beating the alarm clock.
doors opening before eyes.
the sound of a strange tense,
of love in its past tense.

love craving a letter to wear on its tail,
and borrowing Death’s first —
how it leaves your teeth differently,
how it will come to remind you of this gift.

even the shy ones,
the sounds that happened while we were sleeping,
even those sounds from underwater,
where your voice returns to you
heavy and misshapen —

even there
when i listen
i don’t have to be alone.
jan 2013
 Feb 2014 jaymie b
roanne Q
there’s a piano player
on the highest floor
who lends a different genre
to the san francisco fog,

the same piano player
whose lonely sound
deepens and blossoms
while everyone’s busy listening
to their own sad luxury.

this is for the piano player
who carves the chore
out of all those stairs
so the burn in our legs
can finally yield to our heartbeats,

the piano player
whose fingers we feel
but cannot see.
feb 2013
 Jan 2014 jaymie b
My thunder.
 Jan 2014 jaymie b
I remember one of my favorite moments
Was laying in your bed listening to poetry.
You would wait until Andrea Gibson was done speaking
To announce all your favorite parts.
And I wanted to let you know,
That I would love to kiss you in the ocean
And I would love to be your lightning
As long as you promise to shake me like thunder
Because the sound of your voice makes my heart race
And you are such an naturally beautiful phenomenon
That I'm afraid of you, but you don't scare me, no,
You just make me nervous with excitement and awe
And while I pick my jaw up off of the floor,
I see you standing in the kitchen,
Pacing and wondering what I'm thinking,
And me, sitting silently, watching you,
Loving every aspect of you, and you
Never cleaning up the mess at your sink,
But just rearranging it into new chaos.
We were new chaos,
And I'm sorry if that scared you,
But isn't there something exciting in being so scared?
No one has ever been here before, they can't tell you how it will be
So let's accept the mess and brave it together.
And it's times like this where I wonder
If every time you were scared, you'd look for a safe bet,
And if I could ever live my life like that.
If I could ever treat my heart like that.
I wish you wouldn't, and I just couldn't,
Because all of my stumbles and falls and scrapes and scars
That I wear unapologetically and brave
Led me to that bed with you listening to poetry
And I was lost at sea, thunder and lightning,
And I was so scared,
And I was so excited,
Hoping we could be lost at sea forever.
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