funny spring birthday boy
funny how seven’s sharper than six
and we’d soured since
trying to find fireflies
spring turns water to fire maybe
or other changes:
I, the violet–
the early bird getting worms
shaven clean for all new growths
flowers, sweetness, storms.
sunny side up
could’ve burnt me to a crisp
never quite cooling off
dirt under your fingernails
lenses between focus flames
plucked clean, still grey
seek lilacs &
dead rats in overflowing rivers,
picking at the bountiful plate of life
& scabs. picking me to blame
new fear: bird cage
hotter than ever, rabid even
I’d like to know about
the behavior of particles of light
why I’m always overheating?
arguing about god. you in montage
in the rain.
embroidered a picture of you frowning
with the sun.
washed-out, watercolor, pastel
little paper crown
not really anything. nothing nice to say
blacked out names, never off the fence
as always, our eyes. In hurricanes
burnouts & sickly sweet of smores & streetcars
literal weather hard sun envelops
my god, my god, my god.
caught you playing it, trying
to be–claim? all seasons, mulch piles,
and I became the plot point when my summer went blue
wishy-washy but spring showed thaw today
& phoenix sing.