Wonderful
splintering saplings
adrift soon apart
of something sorrowful
sounding absentmindedly
in the oak orchard
away from the city
near the stream
on the hill
where we were
wanton and wonderful
Tag: poem
Wolverine Stew: Slow Growth
The air feels cool, not cold
And I think this time
It might be here to stay
The Diag corner canopies now filled with
Reds, yellows, and pinks budding
Even as the sun hides behind
The walls of windswept clouds
As the day goes on
Rain turning to mist turning to
Fog that covers the entire street below
I still think my windowsill garden
Growing each day with
Spiral-potted sprouting succulents
Orchids in an amanita green glass vase
Mushrooms resting dormant
And chamomile seeds yet to split
Will carry on
I got a real rose from a paper garden
As my goodbye from the theatre
And until I find a vase
I improvise with plastic
And a good bit of tap water
But I think it holds up well
Because this garden is far more
Stumbling than sowing
But in the end, I still think it grows
And more often than not
I see a patch of blue in the sky
Capturing Campus: March
Shadow
can one recognize their shadow
and still be afraid
that it may one day walk off
split from the soul
leave one halved and carrying the weight
of such a loss
of the darkest parts of the self
Wolverine Stew: To The Keene
Tropical shirts and impromptu strings
And a dragon to watch over it all
Plastic ivy wrapped round found/fashioned staves
Tipped with hot-glue pinecones
Dancing screams filling the aisles
Green stars shooting into my eyes
Onto the curtains behind
A place where a rubber chicken
Is a great and terrible power
Paper carefully planted in plots
And watercolor paints
As a library is carried to the seats
And very soon that paper will bloom from
Blank black floors of the stage
That rise to fill the space
When the lights go out
And when they return
The dust rises in a dozen beams
And the show begins
Capturing Campus: March
After Party
loud party tight room shouting voices bright lights
the breeze brings me out into the o p e n air
running
walking
strolling
floating
breathing
being
Wolverine Stew: Can Someone Please Tell Me When We Get Spring?
From the field of mulch and needles
The flowers seem to glow
Icicles sprouting up to
The gray that comes and goes
Patch of frost encircled by deep blue
Still here in the cold
And I miss when I could see the
Moon like a hole punched in
Purple-paper skies
But it doesn’t feel bad to wait
Because as the night goes on
The stars peer through like
Roots splitting through stone
And the flowers are still here
Daffodils and crocuses and
My realization I need to learn more
About the blooms I still pass by
Because one day we’re going to have a spring
And it is going to stick
But for now, I’ll just wait for
The next sneak preview
