the-looking-glass

the most common things a patch of dandelions the freckles on my shoulders these private constellations all shout "you're alive"

pears on the counter ripening in the sunshine like a pod of seals

like the itch of butterfly wings, if i stand still, inspiration may land on my naked shoulders. like the ticking of a clock, how could i unnotice sunlight feeding green leaves i nurtured, dandelions growing, white in the head, old, tall, pretty buildings, clear icicles, clear windows, clear glasses i dreamed i was giving birth, it was a long, difficult labour, and the doctors said "come back tomorrow." maybe i will create something big and beautiful, something perfectly dumb and cute and sweet i can finally put my name on

the cheapest dish soap smells of every orange juice box. i clean my glass harp.

at the forest's edge a footprint full of flowers looks very thirsty

there is such a glee in planting sunflower seeds and praying they sprout. i watch like a proud mother my dear baby skyscarpers

shattered and re-glued, my Blessed Mother statue saved from a garage sale

the instructions say "scatter seeds and step on them" a cruel way to plant

my forgotten dream where could it have flown off to after i woke up?

small red maple tree inside a tomato cage looks out, embarrassed

today, i didn't chose to be sad lacing up my sneakers, my cement feet heavy with the probability of a bad day i picked them up anyway and i chose to skip until the weight chipped off and the chip in my shoulder lost it's hold on my on the way out the door i didn't chose to frown at the clouds, because they looked heavy too and who needs somebody's frown facing you when you're already ready to break and maybe they're just rolling through to wash away last night's bad dreams and replace them with the smell of wet pavement and to make the grass a little greener for tomorrow because sorrow can't stick around when things are blooming and your smil