I dream of permutations and of potted cacti sitting on crystal shelves.
I listen for melancholy silence and I pray that hope and peace of mind tiptoe gently around splintered frustrations.
I want to see the hot sun beat down on prickly green skin until it feels whole again and flowers bloom from its head.

Plant me and forget about me,
for I am an annual.
I will show up when you haven’t thought about me for a while.
You might remember what color I am,
or you might be surprised that
I’m in fact purple.
You’ll have to get back into the routine of tending to me.
And we’ll have to develop our relationship all over.
I’m merely a fling,
which you’ll go back to every single summer.
I lose my petals after October
and you simply can’t handle that.
You’ll find comfort inside
caring for an exotic cactus you bought in the Home Depot garden section.
Seeing you every day for four months is truly worth it
though.

Lefty , I can't imagine how he got his name
Always did things backwards . . . so . . . . .
I was not surprised when he up and went away

Never said why , when , or where he had to go
Now he is growing old where as they say
"Only God Knows"

What are clouds anyway ?
Water vapor in the sky ?
I think it is so much more

I think they are recycled tears
Of every broken heart that ever be
Falling to a desert below

My cactus flower
Blooming in the night
So none will see

She keeps her love close
Protected by her needles

I sit and watch her bloom
And before the sun has begun
I leave looking for lefty

And the reasons I quit
Are the excuses I choose

Between the desert and the sea
Where the cause will be
Clouds keep winking at me

The circle is broken into pieces
I speak in deserts of sand
Drown in seas of lingering waves of pain

And I have no clue where lefty went
Only remember a cactus flower blooming
Without the thorns between the two

I,
   the dried flowers on our porch.
You,
        the growing cactus.
I am beautiful,
                         but stagnant.
You grow,
                                     Sharp.

And sometimes,
the wind blows
                    and my petals dance.
And sometimes,
you say
              the most lovely things

But I Can't Touch You.

Perhaps I am a cactus.

              Perhaps,
there are needles
                              protruding
from my skin
to prove how soft
i really am.

                            A saguaro,
                   only hollow      
      by the birds                  
           who make nests      
                          in my chest.

Perhaps,
               I will flower
once the rainy season is over.

I will drink deep of this muddy sorrow
and my skin will swell
warm
          and green
                            and well nourished
by the sky.

Perhaps,
                it will be
the most beautiful
                 blossom anyone has
       ever seen
and people will travel
                                                      mile­s
                      just to
                                      admire.

Perhaps,
        ­        they will wonder
how my flower
                came from such a
spiny
thing
And Perhaps
                        I will tell them.

What a ridiculous thing
to avoid what makes you hurt.
A refusal to acknowledge
the prickers on the cactus
or the shattered glass gleaming.
But I'm attracted to the green,
to the glitter of the deathly dirt,
calling me unfairly close--
"just look at me."
Like the sharp blades of grass
looking for a whistle,
grip a piece and pull--
I'll slice your palm passively.

I yearn so much,
I cannot stop from pressing a finger
into my bruises to make them stay put.

Love poems are stupid,
Because in only a few months time
They’re likely falling to pieces;
Out of juice, out of line.

However, I’ll still write in my spare time,
But would rather focus on cacti,
Because no one gives them
Their time to shine.

I love you, sweet cactus
How you love when the sun shines,
I love you, sweet cactus
Your agave so devine.

I’d rather write about a cactus
All prickly up it’s spine,
Because that cactus is alive,
That cactus is mine,
That cactus will last
Longer than you and I.