when i knew you
you lit cigarettes in your mouth
and flowers in my heart. blossoms
wrapped like vines of ivy in my
bones, and your arms wrapped
around me. tulips touched my arms,
and two lips touched my cheek.
an oak tree keeps me tall, and
you kept me grounded. with you,
every day was like springtime,
everyday was happiness. and now
you are gone, and everyday is
winter.

Little tawny buds  .  .  .
After winter spring sparkles,
  .  .  .  Freckles on her face.

I have read poems about springtime
everything they say is true
the whole season explained in rhyme
every detail uncovered,
except you.

There are petals in my lungs
I have roots instead of veins
Soaked in rainwater, dancing in the sunlight
I am beautifully photosynthesized

The rain is making the grass grow thick
And blossoms push through the bark of every tree
And the wind is warm
And the ground is sighing its relief
Because you are home
Finally
And home is
You.

You're sitting across a table, in the next room- and it's the month of July.
                                                                                 And as the beads of sweat chip off your forehead
                                                                                                              like a shank of butcher's meat,
                                                                                                                        your dorcel fin peaks                                                                                                         through the sand where my toes peak                                                                       through. The picnic table where I write letters; post cards.
                                                                                                   I take photos, make reservations, and
                                                                                       even after I'm canceled on for walking around
                                                              downtown in my bright neon-pink underwear, I still roll to the
              left side of the bed sit up and drop the cigarette I fell asleep on. You're just sitting, first entry:                                                                                                                                                 Stardom.

                                                                                                I don't have room for you in the corners.

                                                                                                The corners of this room, padded walls,
                                                                                           shifty vaseline sway- the white cotton stick
                                               of a sucker pointing out of your mouth, its red numero forty dye shines
                                                                                                                in the specks of light flicking
                                                                                                  out of the horizon like a carousel ride
                                                                                                                              around and around.

                                                                                        I'm getting a bit dizzy, and even less honest.

                                                                                                                 If you want to see me spring,
                                   like the silly string on my birthday, yellow silly-putty; molding the monster face,
                                                                                                     I observe you through a kaleidoscope                                                                                                                   of dexedrine and morphine.
                                                                                              Your catastrophe with Xanax, passed out
                                                            in alien-green *******, at that party in the abandoned firehouse
                                                                            on News St., how you could lay trust on me after that

                                                                                                (a daydream with sawing you called me)

                                                                                             sixteen-year-old mishap of an afternoon.
                                                                                            &

So often I fall to pieces at the sound of Springtime’s quiet voice,
Luring me to once again, lose myself in immortality
And become enthralled in sunlight
Which will only set and the end of the day.

Spirit desire, will you find me now,
Amidst the chaos, clouding perceptions
Of desire, blindly taking a bow
For the leaders of your misconceptions.
Falling slowly, wake ev’ry day anew;
Springtime awakens my thoughts and visions -
Visions and visions, thinking thoughts of you,
Ripping apart my old indecisions.
In bloom, budding buds breaking the past,
Bushes burning up in smoke, lingering,
Dissipating. This must be the place; last
With me a while: something is forming.
For when I wake and snow has coat the ground
I smile to think of all the loves I’ve found.

Are you my springtime,
Here to drive away the cold hands
That envelop my heart?
Warm the earth
So I can blossom.
I promise this time
I will grow towards the sun.