Bradley Flowers

</>One could say:
There are petals for every flower
A record of moments
Every so many years
...

There is an alluring feeling
The way the eyes sink low.
they touch to the lids- then shutter
The closed moments that feel like eternity.
...

I Swayed beautifully and
I felt the colors once.
It was purple and violet.
I let shimmer and be gently quixotic.
...

The bird that dives
the fish that flies
dinner drop and lost at shore
...

There are pictures on walls

Some dirty, others blanketed and dusty.
...

Visiting my mother, room 32 in ICU
Life truly starts and sparks ignite
Grinding friction from the facts of life
Pushed and forced by flow and strife
...

Memories last, I feel them.
Like the future, they stay.
Aged and colored gray
They do Wrinkle though from time
...

This place, the dry air burns
Thy bird on a moon well
Dependence fly’s down
The shallow, my Soul singer
...

At first I'm obscure
Thus, I'm precreation
At the stand still of time
Soon to speak my mind
...

With words I sleep away,
Hidden beneath what others lay
Like quince.
...

They can have pictures of us and bones in the dirt;
Stories with quixotic tales and tears we shed-
And whatever little is left— it's saved to decaying paper
...

The wings of the ocean combed azure and teal.
My feet, nestled just before the sea cliff—
Slowly encompassed my connection.
I swayed to a tranquil flow, an alluring gaze
...

There was a girl who walked into town,
She had a brown dress that her momma made.
But the burlap dress didn't look that great
And her momma said oh you gotta make do
...

Crashing waves weep
Sympathy for battered shores
In my youth I envied low tide
Nearly always in the distance.
...