Do that thing again. You cry while I hold you, like the little baby I am. Don’t look now, but wow, I’ve never fucked up so completely. Oh wait, yes I have.
Tag Archives: surreal poetry
Lemonade day breeze
Benched
The bench spoke to me. I waited so long: the daily walks, the nervous glances, - hoping. I made excuses, now thinking about it, to walk by. Deluding myself to believe. No, I do like walking. I do like that bench. Around and around that gnarly, blood-footed path. And then sat, “please leave“ it requested. An underwhelming introduction, but chills and flutters still. I walk on.
Nutrients
Where the wandering willows weep; for far they’ve come, no home, my foggy mind leaps to the end of the galaxy known. Who should I meet but the galaxy always alone. Once my travels cease, back to the shady grass. The tears the willows weep have turned all to laughs, to water at their feet, a home they have at last. Unlike earth beneath the trees, my roots do not dig so. They open their hairy arms to much I do not know. Like water beneath the trees absorb all I need to grow.
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