color wheel

i screamed when I saw the patch of snowdrop blossoms peeking out of the fallow grass // when i feel the soft touch of the sun on my face i think i might melt, i think perhaps i am a bowl of water ; i am just here to water all these seeds, to watch the shadows of the tree against the pavement / to perch and watch the stems of a crocus peel its way out of the ground,, the soil thick ice melt and blanket of old leaves, warmly tucked in for a long nap, now peeking its dreary eyes out from underneath a lamplit afternoon // i am here to watch the waves through the leaves, a viridian sea / gold patches and eye treasure / a patch of daffodils climbing out of the dirt, the rolling wind of the spring coming to spread hues like a color wheel again

richmond, virginia

aim your camera at the sky and shoot; the catch of half a corner of a building and the slice of a power line creasing the pleats of the sky ;; capital building casting four white pillars in shadow and light, ghosts of a confederacy ; bars of soap ; the trees crackle criss-crossed now as we race back north , the chill in the air reminds me of what having feet feels like ;; so many spotted windows chase the highway , white tips of chimneys and the spark of the tallest buildings that push up over the horizon like oaks , the washington monument sits like a pale toothpick across the water as a bridge takes us in to maryland // I am desperate for nothing to be possibly interpreted in the wrong way , for I have thought of nothing else for months , and I will keep thinking of nothing else / my mistakes eat at me / I will keep waiting , keep hoping // the clouds peel across the sky, soft birds today ; and all I can do is dream of spring, of finally reaching the horizon, placing my head next to it and waking up

charleston, south carolina

clitter-clatter streetway ; brick lay of perfect lines with the street lamps bouncing off ;; here, a wrought-iron balcony; here, a sloping pastel roof — here an inlet lain with green growing spines as you walk up to the doorway ;; there, the water, gliding endlessly into the shore, pattering against a line of lilac, mint and peach house fronts — a flower box, a white crown molding ;; a plaque that dates this brick and mortar — a list of old names that line the storied rows of houses, spilling light, bouncing light — sharp 5pm light that cuts through the city like a knife; that makes shadows of every framed doorway, every walking body, every ornate window — low leveled silly putty buildings where that the sky peeks over the brows and furrows of the rooftops — a canon sits in the park, the trees twist and turn above — the air hums, the folding and unfolding of old buildings stack on top of another like a set of a well-worn books ;; a bus chimes, a bird sings; the whole city an orchestra