I just wanna press dead leaves

today,

in wax paper

~orange & red~

Seal environ’,

with hottest iron,

talk to Pooh Bear in my head.

I doan wanna know

the branch they’re from–

–is tagged for amputation,

’cause urban sprawl,

replaces all,

unplanned vegetation.

I just wanna have

my apple snack,

& eat it, reading comics…

Not wonder whether,

apple’s better,

than other stuff that’s toxic.

I doan wanna hear

the grove it’s from–

–is seeded by Monsanto,

a global scourge,

who’s on the verge,

of making all crops mono.

I just wanna press dead leaves

today,

in wax paper

~yellow gold~

preserving all

in state of fall

Not here, not there…on hold.

I miss the girl

(I used)

to be

before I saw the boy

(I used)

to love

a guy I thought I missed,

and misguided thoughts I had

–preceding epically misguided action–

banished me to adulthood forever.

Where magic is tragically misspelled

& signs are just directions on roads

& soulmates are orthopedic inserts

Where “always” is subjective,

& love is one-dimensional

& butterflies are only exhibits

Hope sinking there

–as sun does–

Stars dimming, yon

–as lessons illuminate–

Perpetual Winter setting in

–as climate shifts–

-verse just the suffix

for

ads.

Born into rain

–translucent skin

and steady eyes clear

(as drops)

crackling

with lightning

–revealing and discovering–

thunderous cries

unleashing. . .

Grows into summer

–golden all over

and flush with

the warmth of possibility,

pools of blue

ocean

pierced with

black-and-white surety,

laughter trills

spilling

–lyrical as birdsong. . .

Moves into autumn

–mottled

yellows, reds and browns,

fragile and fleeting

and on deck,

drooped with awning

–faded dun–

from years

of sun

–calls falling

into rustling

whisper

of leaves. . .

Passes into winter

–white as

bloodless snow–

drapes drawn

on rheumy windows

too frosted

to see,

layering cold

on top of life

–wisdom

unheard

in

final, muted storm.

Like action heroes are taller onscreen,

Supermodels prettier made-up,

and Wizards more impressive in hologram–

Scribes are more likeable on page…

(LKF)

 
 
not ad lib,

nor email,

nor off-the-cuff remark,

(WTF)

Not passing,

not present,

nor person,

(eff tee eff)

and barring that wow factor

some of us have,

considered

(arts)

and letters

(XYZ)

remain best revised

–and play-acted–

in the wings of

a dark stage.

(BFN)

 
Life is a

magic bean

. . .

3

(that magicK numbah’)

birth. life. death.

We make questionable decisions,

climb the consequent beanstalk

–might as well, there’s no cow to milk–

leaving our roots far behind,

and crash

a giant’s house

(in the sky)

at the end.

A new beginning

4–

Fi-fie-fo-fum.

(holy, holy, holy, holy)

We may get eaten

–Brits almost certainly–

or we may get tossed down

(reincarnated)

strip-mining beanstalks

en route,

obfuscating hemp’s value

& designing new landscapes

. . .

The first “to-do”

replacing that

monoculture,

–the magic bean.