North Dakota

Fields of wheat, fistfuls of horse mane,
wide blue arches over arms outstretched get
sky bubbles caught in the throat.

The old school house kneeling diagonal
into space, space, and more space is forced to lay at last
where the bottom tastes of cattail and clover.

Look up and rafters of you throb
the grouse drum swallowed by silence
and the fluttering of gooseflesh.

Anything beyond sunshine slices scattering your fingertips
across the lips of the Souris swollen with rain doesn't matter.
Remember the rush of civilization soiling itself with excitement?
Don't bother returning from thoughtlessness.

You've found the scent of yourself against a great horizon,
let hills inhale urgency and exhaled fuzzy sticky thistles,
grasshopper foot prints, mosquito kisses,
toothy leech mouthed smiles to woodticklish love songs
steeped in chamomile, nettle, and mint.

Now you dream only golden yellow and skeleton white.
You are the beetle rattling corn stalk's spine.
You sway the unfurling ferns green outward always
and match the motions of lovemaking to the oceans of grass.

You are satisfied deep slow
in the itchy pain of utterly alone.
You smell a hailstorm coming like a flax flower.

You are at my center,
and whatever you do

you can't


leave it



quickly.

Spring Again

Hold my hand here against our skin.
Become our strong thighs as we crouch in this field,
solidly holding our fine ankles,
balancing perfectly our smile gooey faces
atop our gentle toes.

Become the green grass tips tossing in the air.
Become infinite points tickling and playing the wind
through each hair over us.
Just hold my hand here against our skin.
PERCUSS!

Become boughs of crepe myrtles tumbling against the sky.
Become so smooth we're giggling all together
with our lowest parts hooked shallow or deep into the soil,
mingling with dust speck,
tussled with pollen's promise,
topsy-turvy with skin cell.

FEEL THE FLUFFY MYCELIUM OF ALL OF US POUNDING!
through clouds,
through nerve endings,
through branches fine and dense as fog,
through cytoplasm,
through oxygen and hydrogen bonds,
through electricity!

PLEASEjustholdmyhandhere against our skin
and feel everything within
become,

ba-
bum,

become
so
close



to song.

Spring

Two Monk Parakeets

Two monk parakeets mating in a tree
with fine bright leaf buds hinting at the season
looks good to me.

Better than good, really.
Makes me laugh hysterically!

The breeze rustling the branches,
ruffling the feathers, tickling the heads of dandelions
into dancing could be from my lungs.
Could be from the sun heating things up
shifting atmospheric pressure,
pushing things into a righteous flow.

Could be from this unfolding in my heart
shaped like two monk parakeets going at it in March.
Their heads two soft mounds atop
their bodies meeting and becoming one pointed
at their tail feathers: heart shaped, jostling.

Looking good. Looking better than good.
Splitting my sides so green, so new, so natural.