Always coming into the middle
Con/Jur/d, 4/22/2021

… spring snow falls,
the body disconnected,
earlier, short pain.

Now, “Go Ask.”
unphased he says,
“Nothing to say.”

Feeling white, green,
“Know, they will
dream of us,

when we’re gone.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Just feel as

free, we whip,
past, arctic winds, 
through cherry blossoms,

high to low,
swirling through unknown
yellow tree buds, 

return through long
grass, Fall’s leavings
scatter, Sun pierces

opens our heart.
Knowing, a poor
bereft legacy, being

all of this.”
Looking at you
say, “Wake up...