Posts Tagged #spring

Write about a time there were flowers…

white flower

plump smell, like baby skin, blooming
so beautiful so smooth
(everyone says so)
and I think of daisies and lilies and youth,
smooth and slippery

the sweet smooth skin holding memories in,
pressed like petals between book covers
dried papery flat, crackly as a map of a lost world:
how to find our way back when

we are all falling apart,
cell by cell,
moment by moment
going, going, gone—
still springtime’s tap pours out, keeps pouring
children smooth-skinned happy laughing cranky cries rise
on the wind near the playground
little feet wiggle in strollers pushed by vacant fathers, mothers
eyes lost in thoughts, worries

little griefs trip us, cracks in the sidewalk
all we can feel sometimes is the hard fall, smooth
stripped away scraped bloody

while above the sidewalk, a canopy of tulip trees
unfurls hundreds—no thousands—of trembles
petals waving
tiny flags alive in the breeze

when falling apart,
look up

Prompt: Hold a flower. Examine the petals, smell it. Breathe in.
Now: close your eyes, and think of a time from memory or imagination, when there were flowers. Go: write for 11 minutes.

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On the roof

cat feet on roofI melt with the sun
butter in a warm blue pan
the world spins, molten

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Walking home from CVS

Tulip Poplar night suddenly pink
under streetlamp moon
drizzle wets black mulch
fragrant as perfume
heady cedar, pencil-shaving,
sandalwood scent

a half-gallon of milk
swinging in my hand
I drink darkness,
taste the sky, swollen with
tulip poplar blooms waving
in the wind

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Spring. Fever.

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