Seed Catalogue Amnesia

It’s icy twists and winter

Waiting.

January.

To make you believe in the

same amount of frozen

Growing.

Light.


Guitar strings

Not barbed wire

Only voices

Jab.

Twist.

Hold.


Unpaid days are a way to

Look back

Into

All

Ways.


To get here,

To

Begin

With

Pink ooze sparkle on a winter sunset highway.


He’s with me.

They’re here. Seed catalogues.

Bundled trees on sale.

No listing of state tax.

Figures.

Figures out,

The ever growing fight is a January against getting old


For me a seed sized hole in my chest.

From the waiting,

It’s the size not shape

Of a finger’s press firm in bone.

Down.

Deeply.

Holds back the drip that

Rages like floodgates and

Feeling.

Alone.


He can’t name the feeling.

I can’t name the seeds.

When hope doesn’t bubble

The dog’s stomach gurgles

Papercuts and dry coughs

Above seed catalogues

Below his pen.


Unpaid days are a way to

Look back

Into

All

Ways.


To get here,

To

Begin

With

Pink ooze sparkle on a winter sunset highway.


He’s with me.

They’re here. Seed catalogues.

Delivered down the shortened road

Cut short by someone else's

Lights

Stop lights.

The ever growing city glow is an illusionary spring seed catalogues leave untold.


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