Daily Poetry & Prose

The colorful tulip lost its petals, but it became somehow more beautiful in the  wreckage of time.

The statues standing in the courtyard surrounded by the bees of spring have not thought once of renegade soldiers laughing on the soot of angel's wings singed by fires of impunity the hellish heat has made me mad strapped into boots and on a horse to ride headfirst into the love I once had.

Driving in traffic and waiting in line mastering my emotions managing my time longing for love and pining for hate lastly my fear of showing up late to the champagne breakfast tripping on flowers giving away money owning my power falling into a pit of real estate and maintaining the tall cedar trees  I planted for privacy  on the property line of my soul I am trimming back the rose bushes and spreading the chips  standing on the shoulders of giants like this.

I will walk the line of Imperialism in my mind I will not conquer only coerce I will not tread onto anyone's soul only put footsteps on the sands of time dragging a stick behind me only concerned with where I've been and never knowing where I am going My Lake will be my ocean my river, my blood my heartbeat will be the sun shining on the land of my thoughts as I walk each word a step.

I was walking back from work several miles in the cold and was probably making a grumbly face as I walked a friend texted me later and said, "I saw you walking!" and I thought how embarrassing for someone to see me in my grumpiest moments when I thought I was all alone lemon-faced against the wind with no color in my heart at all so now I look around with a face of wonder because why not relax the skin on my face look at the flowers  look at each thing like a miracle the wavering ripple on a leaf the fascinating rust on an old grey door the way power lines lean against the pole the movement of a jogger the reflection in the window the thread on the ground the trees against the sky a wonder all of it all of it a wonder and put the color back in my heart and the relaxation back into my face someone might see me I might see me I might see me

 Pasture me into a cowland glory digestive tract seance of goop Genes are riding free on bodies into DNA sperm and I am here trying to make sense of God Pleasure me into the stench of plastic pansies bent at funeral parlors for forgotten Gods Mean and scathing like dog breath growling in my heart's junk  yard Make me a martyr bake me a cake make me a mixed media rake come on top of me with all your dead leaves  it's Spring time and the butterfly kneels in front of the altar of renewal and my heart lifts up in song all these broken pipes and psalms of rust Hear me, O God!

I fold my arms, I fold the origami I make myself a star I cringe each time I hear my name spoken in that sharp tone the edges of my origami are soft patterned by the rain the edge of a flower dropping and drooping laid across the lawn with tiny sparkling water circles strewn about like galaxies across the canvas of muted color I walk on the sidewalks of Rogers Park each path a new destination each garden a new world