springtime.

spring carries a familiar scent .

two hundred-eighty six.

field of possibilities.

today, impossible fertilized itself in my field of possibilities.
i didn't water it, i didn't give it sunlight, i didn't care for it.
but still, it found a way to give life to itself and now, now
i'm struggling to find its root to pluck it from the ground
because i want my field of possibilities to flourish with
everything that is possible and nothing that is impossible.

sweat is rolling down the back of my neck and down my forehead
i'm searching for its root - i'm digging for its origin - i won't stop
until i find it so that i can cut it and take its endeavors away,
just as it has done to me.

grief stricken, i've become because the sun won't stop whipping
my back, no.  it won't let up until i dig this root up but i can't
i can't find it!  i won't find it.  because its hidden beneath the

flesh and bones of a body i thought i got rid of in my heart,
a long time ago.  no, it's still living.  and they are giving
life to the impossible because, they've watched the same thing
happen in their field of possibilities.  it's almost as if we are sharing
that same field of possibilities and don't even know it.

giving life to what is dead.
oh God, have mercy on these
dead bags of crusty old
flesh and bones.

dead leaf, life, alive.

treat dead leaves like they're living - they will come back to life.

two hundred-eighty five.

eternal sunset.

smile, child.

the world

misses you.

the world misses

your warmth.

come back and just,

smile.

two hundred-eighty four.

the earth's memoirs.

when love turned its cheek on me,
the pavement beneath my feet separated

and immediately, i fell into the crevices
of the earth's own hurt and discovered

buried treasures that wrapped around
the rough edges of sacred memoirs

written by the earth - we became alike.

earth says, "i've felt the feet of many people tip-toeing in the darkness of the broad day light into pretty little white lies they thought they could hide.  and i felt them consciously walk into doors that protected them from the rage and confusion of decisions they would mistakenly make.  that is why i've created this escape - when they discover the other side of loves cheek, they can make their bed inside of me - i separate for their best interest so they can hide and wait out the noisy, grimy and bottomless ride of, mistakes.  when no one else is available to cradle you, to console you - i have crevices that will do.  i've seen it all.  tears water my ground far more than the rain showers.  i rely on those tears - they keep me company down here."

two hundred-eighty three.

city of roses.

her voice danced along the keys

and the strings and the air of the

woodwind instruments - her

vocals rode the chords as if they

knew their own way home and

her words played their own

solid tune that drew magic

illustrations in my mind.

simply by putting these words

over a harmonious tune - woe.

like a dove.

when my eyes caught the days walking away from me, my mind began to spin and flooded beneath a wave of realization - time, certainly, waits for no one.  and i, i am a product of time's inconsiderate but justified movement.  my imagination hasn't aged a bit and i'm happy about that.  while everything that surrounds me is being swallowed up in a whirlwind i cannot control, my imagination stands its ground and i am able to feel ... ok.  while everything around me falls under the control of destruction, my imagination remains solid, still.  writers don't stop imagining, they only stop exploring.

the break has been a long one that has fulfilled its fitting name, break.  it has broken, it has torn apart, it has destroyed.  february into march, there has been a break between the bridge that connects the two months.  i'm looking forward to restoration and rebuilding.  my mind has entered a state of devastation but hope resonates and resides in my state of mind.  hope resonates, hope resides.

today is filled with beauty and is covered with majesty.  the atmosphere is pure perfection and there isn't a gray cloud painted on the sky's canvas - as vast and as immeasurable as it is, there is not one.  and that, i pray, will be my life, my mind, in due time.  this is the girl from next door writing to tell you that hope, it resonates and it resides.  it cannot be shifted, altered, or swallowed up into a whirlwind of hopelessness because hope gave hopelessness its existence.  without hope, there is no hopelessness and hope, strong and bold, has decided to conquer the hopelessness that seeks to destroy with ill intention.  intentions to kill.

no foot will smother this light.  no hand will crush this love.  no fight will beat this lesson.  take flight.  move.  like a dove. with peace carrying you like the wind.  and listen, nature speaks if you pay close attention.  don't dismiss it.  please, just pay attention.

• silence now,
• sound later,
• don't recover, just rewrite,
• remember, forgiveness has no breath without love.

two hundred-eighty two.

disconnected.

... and that was it.
"disconnected," it read.

somehow, he felt as though
those words were linked to
something more than just a
phone call ending - something, more.

and that was it.
the remains of
what remained
were lifted and
taken away -

from their last words transferred,
to their last words shared.

but today, today is a new day.