Blooming with Summer #5

Thrilled to wake up to a dreary morning rain. I think it’s been months. We’ve had rain– but it’s had a beginning, middle, and end. This is a slow soak. A roll-over-and-sleep-a-little-longer morning.

This is so drafty you could fly a house through it. But that’s what poem-a-day play dates are all about, isn’t it?

The Unlimited Search

In the beginning, pretend.
You are limitless. Don’t

stop. Just because you know
better. Sink through layers
and caves and magma and

China, or swim with moles
if you want. Pretend you

own three pair of sexy heels–
and that wearing them is good
for feet & back. Then pretend

you can fly the beyond,
drink distance, consume

the space between stars,
sleep in the best pocket

universes. In the beginning–
houses. East log, west log,
north log, south. Stud

your cabin sticks with blue
rubies, build a fireplace

out of ice. Wear a little black
dress to pick green beans.

Off the porch of the Acropolis,
spit watermelon seeds. Pretend

you look a million dollars every
morning when the bed kicks

you out, and that it will be just
as warm or cold or bright or rainy

as will make you happy right this
minute. Pretend it’s so, and don’t

let the Flat World tell you
it’ll ruin your dinner or

that parking space is reserved.
Don’t re-invent the rule machine.

 

 

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