I have been to lavender fields on what you might call
“A great day.”
Oh that the flowers would have told me,
“Love buds not with him — come fast away!”
He’ll not pray that you sit
He’ll not fight the good fight
He’ll not be by your side ‘til the end
You’re the bride and the groom
You’re your own epic bloom
You’re your bravest and loving best friend
Would that all who’d seen fit
To have been unkind to me
Have their childhood wounds healed
Here, look from my window
Flower and vegetable gardens
Fruit tree and fire pit
Baseball, my love, baseball
Step one, get weird with it. This belongs to you all, after all.
Step two, present yourselves ￼all ways, every day, at the same time.
Step five, step five?! Yes, step five — there’s nothing linear or logical of this.
Step five, show the canvas of man what these years of kinship mean.
Step six, dip your brush in cool, cool water, then choose the color violet. Or orchid, because you are bold, or you want to be.
Step three, make a space in advance, or in the moment, or not at all. The whole Earth was prepared for you.
Step four, never end before you’ve finished, or for forever, whichever comes first. Last.
Step seven, relay your love for The All of them. Take responsibility and fight again tomorrow with the sunrise.
If you won’t mind
Lend me your drawl this late, tired eve’
Speak into these bones
As a balm
Be my guilty pleasure, if you please
The voice that simply won’t quit
Tuck me in as flowers in a field
￼Water me, hence, with your words
“Why?” I ask myself
Amidst the shadows, “What now?”
“Dance lessons, for sure….”