I see flowers
insulating the mind’s
crosshairs from straying
within the confines
I see flowers,
in firefly spackled silhouettes of
oak, willow, maple, oak or maple
I’m not sure.
I see stars
fireflowers
insulated from the minds
by the dark slate for lightning
benevolent—the minds
relishing, welcoming—the mines
I see coal flowers
cauliflowers, sky castles, sensual magistrates,
glimmering spies upon towers
flags for every color of emotion
tangerine naïveté
eggplant melancholy
I see in
nine new interior windows, twelve
new exteriors I would not have seen
had I not sat beneath
the bird tree
with feathers grained in flowers.