escapril:

escapril:

escaoril:

escapril:

spring cleaning

-

escapril:

not from your perspective

-

self portrait of the lake who wanted to be a river

1/3

escapril:

2/3

escapil:

(3/3)

escapril:

escapril:

escapril

nostalgia

-

we dug for dinosaur bones

using our fingernails

and sticks

at recess when all the other kids played boys vs girls

on cleat torn field

clawing with their fingernails

throwing sticks and stones

we dug for fossils in the baseball diamond

unsure of what we really

were looking for

cause of course

we weren’t truly

satisfied from white rocks

but at least

we had proof of something

sometimes we’d stay at the school

in the evening

when the playground was clear from the older kids and the bullies

and we’d blow into dandelion puffs and watch the breeze

(that lifted my golden whisps)

carry fuzz into watercolor skies

dissolving into night

with it—our naivety

we made wishes

(that didn’t come true)

years later in the baseball diamond

we found in the sand

the earths kindness

(1/2)

escapril

back to nature

-

nature, my love,

remember when it was you and me

at waco park

and i touched your aloe vera skin

tangled your cumulus cloud hair

and our branches intertwined on lush?

remember we were first bloom saplings of the spring

like rushing waters in babylon

where new love bloomed in our hanging gardens

where the birds thanked you for your hums and trills

and I kissed your rose lips

under poppy spells

kneeled to violets

where heaven verged

but even eden’s flowers and fruit come with thorns, spiders, wasps thistles, snakes

in the summer:

the mosquitoes mobbed our river bed

(where our infatuation flowed)

came with nocturnal ravenous

and took our blood

nature, my love,

you are airplane streams, mirror lanes and wide streets now

and I know that there will never be enough time

but don’t forget

escapril

1/2

escapril

incorporated music

-

collage:

the painter takes his brush in hand sketching a scene in wax

the poet magnifies the words unspoken symphony

the cellist takes her bow

something like a congregation rattles a waltz

1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3

the conductor is beckoning

the scene:

the dancer coils pirouettes:

footprints over the poet’s lines

they’ll keep shaking the window reflections

the painter spews out tangled hands

in a motion picture storage room

for now, the earth is idle

time feeds the gapes

novocaine and anesthesia

the hands clasp in charcoal

there’s brown, black, blue and specks of red

clutching somewhere in

paler

a handle without a lock:

no one opens that’s door

he’s painting faces blended into one

blurred by some sort of infatuation

blurred by some sort of fantasy

unfinished vignette:

there’s a rhythm in the kissing

a drum in his chest

luring her closer

unraveling home

in palm flesh

in fists unclenched

a metronome on their lips

(3/3)

escapril

april showers

-

barefoot in lush

heels scrape the riven sidewalk

smearing the blotched and soggy

chalk

sniffling in stale rain

slicing grass with her piggy toes

she watched snakes slither into

the gutter

pattered

by rooftop pellets

the vacant lot

flooded

colorado monsoon

like the first cry in months

it was merely bittersweet

you see? cause the puddles will dry up again

the sun peeked out

behind the girl’s butterfly clip

her eyes a storm

mourn the rain

she was five years old

and didn’t quite understand

that april showers