California, Again

It’s Winter when he does this, so I buy myself time and find flowers somewhere. Color-filled, with thorns that draw my blood which proves I’m alive and not here to stay quiet and blind. These flowers, I cannot help but clutch them in desperate remembrance that it’s Summer somewhere. I was born in the Summer.

Aftermath

All the noise, the propaganda

The truthless, loveless bombs

Only the aftermath to deal with

Each season is Winter again

Yesterday is unrecognizable

Today is unbearable

Tomorrow, there’s no one to trust

Not even the flowers

In full bloom one day

Content to take their leave the next

Name This Poem

When you suppose your eyes

Close them whenever, what do you see

Me

I see flowers that belong to you, although I have no proof

But it is your stare

From my best recollected memory

Through this whirlwind storm God permits

And this calm

From which I build my case

Thief

I know

I am nothing

More

Mere smashed-up, shattered pottery

An impermanent cup, long since buried

Serving as drainage

For your pretty backyard garden flowers

Then when I finally drink

From the cup that is not shattered

The cup that matches yours but is intact

I

See I am the mosaic labyrinth in you

I

The nutrients, light and sweet rain for you

I

The height and beauty of you

I

The reason they wish to pluck you

I

The breath-stealing scent of you

Ode to My Susans


Dear deliberate garden
Across the lawn grown long
I ask of you forgiveness
For days of absent song

The week raced past so clever
Don't wonder if I care
I tended needy gardens
And wildflowers there

I vow I'll strike the balance
I'll give and take with you
I'll seek you out to ask your thoughts
We'll praise the morning dew

Giving Flowers


Just past the window pane
In the peripheral there
Was
The delivery man with the great gift
Was she giving, getting flowers again?
I wholly hoped the proud bouquet
Would head my way
But I knew
They were destined for elsewhere
Disheartened
The good news-bearer learned
What I've known
The girl next door's almost never home

Stricken With Purpose

What of the bitter
Since I’ve known sweet
When I’ve caused distance
You’ve drawn me near
I cannot unknow
Understanding You’ve giv’n
If there be cracks in cement
We’ll place jewels there
For flowers

Not weeds shall grow here