| I will write you a flower every morning to read with your coffee a bright yellow squirt the coffee oily blue green bubbles on top You sleep with a cat whose soft purr gives you pleasure all the joy of color impressions for the day You are soft like warm butter barely melting down a scone topped with a couple of firm red raspberries The butter surrounds the berries a light pigment an open place to play with lips and tongue – wait you didn’t think this was really a flower did you? Here are two flowers the one calls a honey bee the other falls asleep petals lips open blowing softly. |
There is so much silence hear the rustle of ants hustling across the counter for sugar and sweet stuffs see the apple blossoms opening feel the bees approach touch the molten lava freeze it you can but no matter Once we admired use of one another of the now tossed the cast laugh the tassels flipping flopping bouncing from rear view mirrors Now we adhere to a silence that deafens touch asks for oh be dunce I’m sitting in the corner face to the wall wearing the cap. |
Two Open Places
The Coming of the Toads 
Ah! Yes.
Those were the days Joe.
B
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