It's really unbelievable how the mind works.
remember certain things, forget others.
like research paper or
a birthday. like watching the dry skin
curl above my index
knuckle. long walks in reynolda village
& back to wake forest,
watching as the flowers grow. it's odd.
as you breach the outskirts of
the school you notice that beds of
not sure: have one flower-
so you pluck it.
but as you walk deeper into the brush,
away from concrete
asphalt & footsteps,
there are identical beds of flowers but
almost all of them (the flowers that is) have bloomed.
not just one.
& all of a sudden, near the mud diluted
you stop thinking so much as the
plucked flower that resides in your pocket
has scampered away.
whether it be the winds,
the words, the
smoke that comes with eighty-five
percent humidity. who knows.
try walking & not wondering about the flowers.
try listening to the song of the cicada
& the wolf spider. the confused
morning birds whistle their
tune. the light's
florescence isn't lonely anymore. the mosquitoes,
like the remora hold
steady beneath its wing & kiss it with
the subtle buzz (hum) of the group.
i dislike so many of the creatures that live
in this area. but so many produce such
captivating noise. it reminds me of "brother"
by the annuals. great song.
that's all i got for today. need to sleep. get ready for that research
(fist on forehead).
here's a link to a fantastic frank o'hara poem called