in cursive,
Icarus walks
on paper clouds
and brown sun
skin sweat
rise with each sunrise 0554,
fall with each sunset,
red eyes at night/sailor’s delight
i’m strong when i need to be
and weak when you’ve needed me,
believe in me, climb trees and chase bees with me, find the prettiest lily in the field and remember exactly what it looked like at that perfect moment but don’t pluck it from the ground, leave it for a family of four to come loudly marching down the trail we cut days before and admire it too, their eldest son could be me in a future life and wouldn’t I be sorely disappointed to find such a proud stem flared towards the sky with no flower? some days that’s how i feel, other days i flood my mind with water and heavy weather and paperwork to push out the thought that maybe that’s all I’ll know. a sad confession but one best made anonymously. i don’t believe in scars anymore; i have hope we will find each other on Highway 101 and know we need nothing but our breath, each in turn with fresh ideas and comfort and softness and understanding, it’s all you and it’s only me (thanks Frank)
on paper clouds
and brown sun
skin sweat
rise with each sunrise 0554,
fall with each sunset,
red eyes at night/sailor’s delight
i’m strong when i need to be
and weak when you’ve needed me,
believe in me, climb trees and chase bees with me, find the prettiest lily in the field and remember exactly what it looked like at that perfect moment but don’t pluck it from the ground, leave it for a family of four to come loudly marching down the trail we cut days before and admire it too, their eldest son could be me in a future life and wouldn’t I be sorely disappointed to find such a proud stem flared towards the sky with no flower? some days that’s how i feel, other days i flood my mind with water and heavy weather and paperwork to push out the thought that maybe that’s all I’ll know. a sad confession but one best made anonymously. i don’t believe in scars anymore; i have hope we will find each other on Highway 101 and know we need nothing but our breath, each in turn with fresh ideas and comfort and softness and understanding, it’s all you and it’s only me (thanks Frank)