17 August 2010

the silent speech of sunflowers.

i think it's crucial to see that there are inspirations and reminders at so many corners, along so many strips of road. eyes have more purposes than we'll sometimes realize in the bustle of our days, with stressors knotted around us.

yesterday, i vision-gulped some sunflowers in a yard along swamp pike on my way home from work. this stitched a line into my head, and i wanted to run with it. i knew a house down the block had a nice patch of sunflowers along its fence, so before work this morning, i threw my stuff in the car and ran toward the golden yellow calling out in magnets.

lemon of stalk-struck sparks

you toss heat across where 
fingertips have tapped lightly-- as the oven 
you are, with your face a pie of seeds.

 bees comb out your freckles 
with their kneeless limbs

 where legs and necks blur, trailing 
skyward, a sunflower.


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