Yellow and black,
too heavy for science yet
weightless to the air.
You fly.
You protect.
You die.
Your senses are keen,
and your smile is bright.
You work all day,
and rest all night.
Mr. Bee, how do
you do it?
How do you manage to
stay so happy and optimistic.
Your squished and smashed,
hit and bashed.
Yet your smile is omnipresent.
Mr. Bee, teach me how to live
happy in this cold and sad world.

pick me up properly
changing infancy energy

clarified butter
1 cup mint
3 parts nasturtium

once grass
seemed deeper
now
prized, contained

bite bitter
pungent fever
shifty roots

dependent
austere
it is todays found forms

I am always in awe
of the constant motion of the world

the wind flows over everything and everyone,
sweeping locks of hair out of place
and swirling leaves into the air

the oceans and the seas flow over the sandy floors and ocean rocks,
crashing and ebbing again and again

plants and foliage flow over the earth,
over old abandoned things,
over forests and islands unexplored

and life flows.

life flows in the eye of your baby sister,
in the steam of a hot meal,
in your legs as you run toward someone you miss,
in a song so familiar you don't have to think.

it flows in the conversation between old friends,
in a puppy playing in the snow,
in the shaky hands holding an acceptance letter,
in the voice of someone you love.

and it flows through you. no matter what.

I wake up in the morning,
Swiping spiderwebs from the corner of my eyes.
All the flies attract the predators.
I brush one off my shoulder,
Not out of fear, but out of convenience.

It’s happened before,
where a thought sits and stews.
The sun bakes my brain
And the garbage inside attracts buzzing flies
Swirling around my head.
People’s mouths are moving but all I hear
Is the constant drone and thrum of decomposers.

And before long, slugs and snails and worms creep through my ears
Thriving on the decay,
The rot of my brain.

As with everything, rot comes and goes with the season,
And I simply wait out the stench of spoiling thoughts.
There’s the option to rake out the old,
Clear the paths of my mind,
But I’ve found that as soon as it’s cleared, it’s back again.
Like leaves in the fall.

But it comes and goes,
And comes again, and goes again,
And before I know it, the rotten thoughts are replaced by ones of hope.
A breath of peace and hope.
Life.
My brain blooms,
And the rain waters my face.

Instead of waking with spiders,
I feel a gentle breeze.

What began as an innocent little bush
turned into a garden that became
untenable.

Weeds began to grow inside me
since you left me alone.
And I've been attempting to pluck
out them out.

What once began as pure innocence,
became stems of weeds wrapped tightly
around my ribs and lungs.

Making it hard for me to breathe,
like a seed, you planted yourself in me...
a **** I could never take out.

I pulled at the roots
but he didn’t budge
so I left him in the ground
and I sat and thought
“maybe he’s not ready”

I cannot help but compare people to plants.

We are born,
Blooming throughout our lives
We sow seeds and bear fruit.

Like trees,
We take root spreading far and wide
And yet we wither and die in the same soil

Even still,
The flower petals dance through the sky
And our greatest adventure continues.

I don’t focus much on death itself anymore,
but what comes after.

Whatever comes will be, and that is that.
I cannot change it, and there’s no sense in agonizing over it.
I like to imagine my body after the event, when I am no
longer conscious, and the breath in my lungs have long
dissipated like last season’s floral.

Even though the chances are slim, I like to imagine being in the forest, surrounded by trees and flowers and perhaps a stream. I imagine a sort of time-lapse, my body collapsing inward, my skin peeling away, my hair wilting like autumn leaves.

Mushrooms will grow beneath my fingers, wildflowers will tangle themselves within my hair and ribcage, blooms and blossoms of all colors will emerge through my chest. My bones will grow moss and Mother Earth will swallow me whole. Tree roots will wrap around me, engulfing me, pulling me towards themselves. I will be wanted, I will belong.

Let me nurture you like you’ve done with me, let me help you grow and flourish into who you are to become, let me be your trellis, your shield, your hill. I will allow you to bloom such as you have me, and we will flourish together, life within death. It goes on, and it is peaceful.

Where there is death or change,
new growth awaits.