dried flowers

I.   I don’t know what to do with this…
Is it a mess?
Some may say “yes.” And others may say “no,
wait for it to fall to dust
then grow
again.”

II.  That was the first poem I wrote about you
though I’ve wanted to for quite some time,
I was practicing patience in place of poetry
in hopes that the discipline might bring favor upon this-
which is nothing more yet
than just me writing  a little about you.

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I want to try again

I’m sorry for turning you

A    R   O   U    N    D   A   N   D   A   R   O   U   N   D   A   N    D   A   R   O   U   N   D   A   N   D   A   R   O   U   N   D   A   N   D   A   R   O   U    N   D

making you stumble and fall.

But I’m even sorrier for getting upset when you don’t see me, after you finally stand back up again.

You’re one of those songs
Leading me to the apple orchards
Unlacing my sneakers
And whispering “let’s go”
You sing as we leap through the trees
Breathlessly, I let out a love filled sigh
Whimsy fills my lungs
As I open my mouth to sing along

a deep fried love letter

I dream of the day you hand me a deep fried love letter in the rocking carriage of a Ferris wheel. You’ll wipe the joy from my chin when I take my first bite, and we will finish it together while sitting at the top of the ride; the stars kissing the tops of our heads.

I hope my love for you dies in its sleep

I exchanged my dignity for an altar to beg for you to take it away

Just get it out of here, please

Lose it when you wade through the ebb and flow of the river

Let it fall from your pack as you climb

Ignore its screams on the way down as branches mangle any sort of potential it had

Abandon it on the trail when it stops for water and when you take a break to count the group overlook its absence

Or simply lay it down for the night on the bench in the city and let its warmth lull you to sleep

Be kissed goodnight by the innocence of our roof top memories

Let the twinkly skyline flit across your eyelids as you drift into our final conversation about poets and their muse

But when you rise in the morning, don’t wake it up

Let it pass on peacefully and walk away

Reserve the self-denial to find yourself in a different city before you stop for your morning coffee

Because we both know how hard it is to tell those big sleepy, solemn eyes to go back to bed

What’s the difference between a missionary and a lover?

I feel like a fool
For planning a trip to the Grand Canyon
And dreaming of Christmas
In North Carolina mountains

When I answered the phone
With a choked hello
My heart already knew you had called to say
You weren’t coming home
(to me)