i said i was gunna write about nature, so i did.

I like sunflowers, so I put them in different colored bottles
and place them on my flesh colored desk where I write.

its getting cold now, and there isn’t enough sun filtering
through the smudgey glass window or screen

the petals were getting whiskied and wrinkled
and the yellows were circling on the table like synchronized swimmers

so I threw the stinky things out
except for one that was still dreaming and looking up.

I put him in a green flute
and opened the window to give him air

he stared at me all morning
and while I stewed apples

and he looked so singular
wide eyed abandoned

his hair is getting thin and flat
and his throat is hanging out like a tongue

he is stretching neck outwards
as if to be noticed in a crowd








wait!
he is trying to say something.