Traveling Garden

Van Morrison is loud in the Volkswagen van.
The vehicle— burdened by years of hot sand—
is pleased to be with its brown-eyed family
on the old road out from the beach to the trees.

Marble Queen Pothos— her leaves pressed to the glass—
is one among many plants in the back.
Like Buckminster Fuller lived there full time
this spaceship of earth bears a biophilic design.

A traveling garden— pack up and unwind.

Redwood Blue

The redwoods seem like they need to cross the street
dragging pavement across their big toes
Scaffold me into the homestead trees
Bring music from a hand-me-down banjo

Make scarves thicker than what you’ve planned for dinner
You’ll bring me more than wedding vows
Tell me about what the clouds can do
I’ll tell you how sweet they are on blue

date night

Sally forth, sycophant, toward a raw and total meeting place!
Flatter me over crème brûlée
but I cannot take you down today
to the dumb and dirty palisade.
Bring chickpeas, some sad fish cake,
the glossy edge of your wine taste,
lick my trapezius before I postulate.
My vowels are drunk on your parade.

Yoga Video

Kiss your lapel. Then, the stapedius.
Lick your long fibers. Dig
delicate roots through the fascia.
Your depths are mud
on my trowel. My fingers pull down
bad vibrations. No bad yoga, though tired
mystic entanglement. Nonsense
to meet the wideness of the pose.

fight fire with fire

I like your dense graph but the esoteric
matter might make some brains bleed.
Some backward data science
with circles that collide and conflate your half-truths
make a Rubicon connected by large jagged grooves.
Birds and bees are glad things but nothing nature makes
will fill the bosom of the bullet point you lay
flat with palms unsheathed.