the taste of tea and whispers of envy
smells of green and cinnamon
rolling through a harbor of unbalance
too late too much too early too little
promises skitter in every dark corner
wallflower flower built for keeping
pressed between pages
hidden bouquet
there is no bitterness here
nor regret
just the walking off
weary worry
weight of the world
no solutions to carry
no voice fuel to parry
no answers hidden
in the littered grey gravel
just anger fury fear glinting off the back
of the (slick fake true) reel news
this sky that sky this sky
always leading always following
bluest
not enough
never
not enough
too much too much too much
to reach so high
…
squirrel fight
dove coo
blue jay belligerent
.
skin soaking up sun
anti mirror
wide smile
prismatic
.
desiderata
forgotten
.
and she walked
the center line
straight past the pond
of forgiveness
.
as if it were possible
to live anything
but
the life lived
the moment living
the day dreamed
the evening
revealed
…
dipping one toe in
the cold is brutal
still
this is where i live
now
old and grey
and somewhat silent
no one cares
except when I creak
sitting alone
in my sun-filled corner
i have always had grey cats
a favorite color
in a tiny life
lived beneath every rainbow
where the bluebirds bring me sky
and I am just a figment
of a girl’s imagination
holding court
at the laundresses
tea party
and you are the shadow
of my joy
…
getting old is a bitch
but it beats the alternative
truth matters
no really, it does
common sense can’t be taught
science can
the word feminism was coined by a man
of course
we’re all lost
on the same planet
i hope i’m gone
before they make the sky
less blue
…
and i’ll show you a seed
left to dry in an envelope
or an avalanche of words
dropped cold on a doorstep
or a curtain barely moving
in a window filled with need
…
