Wolverine Stew: Break

This is the break between winter and spring

Coal and glass and shells line the rivers

Carving their way through mountains of

Budding trees and rhododendrons

The clouds make the sun come down in rays

And along the cliff’s edge I can see

Vultures take flight alongside

A raven finding a home on thawing branches

Its call echoing through the trees

Part of the woods are scorched

Singe marks at each base of bark

And ashen earth, but beneath it

I can still see deep mossy greens

And on and on I note the

First flowers I’ve seen this year

The first web I’ve seen this year

The first deer I’ve seen this year

Wandering past swings yet to be used

The sun sets behinds wisps of orange

The sky open, free of any light below

And I know the cold will return

Before it goes away again

But for now, I take this moment

This is the break between winter and spring

Wakesleeping

Awake with dread in a blue room wishing to 

Close my eyes knowing that with every passing 

Moment my mind, quenching tears creates time tombs.

Who knew that sorrow could cure happy living 

Water is healing when thinking how, or who

Gets to be, gets sleep, gets to keep succeeding. 

Loneliness feels best when striving for greatness

I wonder how I’ll sleep when there’s nothing less.

Make my bones like papier-mâché 

So that I may be whole while hollow

Create my mouth like calculator 

So that my speech may be accurate while calm

Humble my ears like honey 

So that I only see what is sweet

~Sappy Daze~ Day 2

Summer Sun Tastes More 

memorable than mulberries, a fruit 
more known for staining
the sidewalks and chalk 
sketches than its sweet taste. 

Still, I like Autumn better: the smell of 
a pumpkin’s pimply skin. Scenes 
of sinking skulls that trick 
children for treats. Screams 
of scattering leaves. The sweet taste 
of fear, the chilly air. 
Feeling the euphoria of fading 
warmth before freezing.

- Sappy

Wolverine Stew: Making Plans

Tonight I saw

A cord wrapped round a bike

Without its wheels

I wonder whether the wheels or chord

Were there first

I wonder where it goes

The sky is clear except for

The wisps of orange built over the

Day, still the moon is always

Visible, always getting closer to full

I once saw a line of crows calling to

One another across the Diag, from

Downtown to the cemetery to the woods

Today, there were four

Are they here early or late?

I hope to see them all again

Filling budding branches with

Black-feather leaves

The snow melts away, comes back, melts

Away, and I’m not sure where the day went

I just know there’s still more of it

And somewhere in that time inside my room of

Half-lit string lights I’ll have to replace someday

And in those late-night walks, trying to find Orion each time

Remembering a stage formed from

Paper hyacinths and rubber chickens

And in those moments talking about

How falling forever was high school me’s heaven

And taking friends to see the sunset

I think I might be ok