PolarAnemone

take in the view from the more gravelled road: you have a spoonful of love and dripping. vowels of awe & consonants of comfort - it is a simple language you speak in. they will pick you in full bloom and strip you to fiber, they will slam your voice silent on pages of herbarium, they will plaster scary labels Faggotia vulgarius, how silly of them to want colorless gardens. stand strong like you are - resounding mountains, tongue like a bowstring that shoots "I am" proudly with the delicacy of honeycombed hair and fierce bravery of a hurricane.

dear floor, I'm sorry for walking all over your squeaking joints and herringbones, for many spilled drinks & hard tapping heels - if I settled in you, I'd quickly outgrow. the breeze of midsummer calls at the front door. there is more to see than the tower of Pisa stacked in the sink, but today I am greeted with . . . hostile silence. I am anxious like a schoolchild playing truant for the first time - - not a whisper to be heard - so please, dear floor, squeak and scrunch and creak and groan. make me a librarian of laughs. make noise. make me a rainmaker with the waltz of my toes. roll my tongue into a whimsical clef. ripple the stillness of the ocean's depth. look, last Monday I threw a coin into a fountain (plus five more due to financial crisis) so my investment must amount to something: it's not that long until we take over the streets once more -- with laughter