In every moment
life offers herself,
whole and ardent,
in every moment
life invites itself at the banquet of possibles,
possibilities, silent messengers,
through the mists of time,
they invite the world to take shape,
to come out of hiding place of eternal silence.

(a Senryu string poem)

High school girls are just
thoughtless and vague - too ****
dumb to be afraid.

Trusting too quickly
- believing things that are said
- unaware of risk.

Small and powerless,
chickens cooped from feral foxes
- peaches for picking.

So accompany
me on walks, to the store and
guard me like a penny.

Look - we're women
- junior grade - and conscious
of dark potential.

Breasted Americans
face a dark rainbow of threats
- we are mortal.

But ANY of us can
encounter unscheduled evil
like nightmares from hell.

Yes, that means you rough
tough males who glide through life as
if untouchable.

There once was an ordinary girl.
She kept the most beautiful garden.
She tended it often to keep the beds vibrant:
Her flowers were the brightest,
Most eye-catching scarlet.
She hid their Garden from others
Out of fear for what they'd say.
Her Garden is kept secret- It's only for her.

One hot summer day, Mother found the Garden.
Our protagonist was yelled at and forced to stop
Because her parents didn't want her having
A Red Garden.

She tried to stop gardening.
She now hides the faded plants.
She hopes nobody will find them.

She is now writing so she doesn't garden.
The gardener wants to stop
To keep her parents happy, she needs to.

No matter how addicting gardening is,
She has to stop.
No matter how beautiful the red flowers look
Our gardener needs to stop.
She doesn't want to be sent away.

---

So if you see somebody's Red Garden,
Or even the dried, withered bodies of flowers,
Please don't ask them about it.
They'll just lie about their Garden-
explaining it away as clumsiness
Or scratching themselves on something.

Where have you been?
I returned to the river,
I returned to the mountains.
I asked for their hand in marriage again,
I begged to wed every object and creature,
and when they accepted, then I knew my soul
—every soul—then i knew,
the souls are drawn from the oceans of silence.

The waiting for a text back seems like eternity.
The constant short and curt texts have led to overthinking.
The recognition that you have been ghosted has a different sense of disappointment that sits deep within your mind.
Disappointment is a feeling that leaves behind a sense of self reflection that leaves a longing numbness.....

The parrot has 3 billion neurons in its brain
We have 86 billion
And most of mine are busy
forming unhelpful pathways
Misleading my good intentions.
Still, 3 billion neurons
seems like enough room for a few
unruly pathways


The parrot can repeat phrases
Which we thought to be
pretty cool
So we trapped him
and put him in a cage
And in our living rooms
Alone


The parrot knows how to survive happily
Within his world
Within his world, with 30 others of his kind
And a partner for life.
In his world
he would fly with his flock
To trees to pick fresh fruit
Now he perches on his own
And picks dry fruit out of a bowl.
In his world
he would prune his partners feathers
He would look after her
And she him
Now he perches on his own
And prunes his feathers
until there are none left.


Its an unhelpful neuro pathway, you see?
Some form of OCD?
Maybe its a way to cope?
Maybe its the brain spiralling
Trying to figure out what to do
Because it can't be a parrot anymore
It has to learn to be a toy
A talking point
And the parrot doesn't know how to be that
He only knows how to be a parrot