On Wednesday, the farmers down the road 

copiously sprayed their 

phosphorus and nitrogen onto the soil 

like it was a 21-spice seasoning

on a mediocre meal,

meant to enhance and elevate


They probably believed that 

if plants had souls, 

the extra flavor would save them


Somedays, you felt depleted of

something hard to name, 

maybe something without one.

Not sadness or happiness. 


You didn’t know


One day, the clouds rolled in

with their misery,

crying over the dusty plains.

Sludge dripped down divots 

and trickled through tributaries.

The rivers of regret, 

the streams of sorrow.

Where would the water lead? 

Perhaps to the end of the world


There were so many blank pages, 

open roads,

and divergent paths.

And people you never knew. 

All the time that fell slowly, 

and softly away 


The algae received kindly, 

frantically taking in the flavors from the farm.

They felt the warm sun from the fields, 

the swaying husks and kernels scattered 

on the cracked earth.

A life they never knew, but knew only 

through these moments. 

And so they took, 

voraciously, vigorously, violently,

until they grew


How many hours have you spent worrying

about time, productivity, 

the small inadequacies?

You thought the more you filled your life,

the more it would fill you,

save you. 

It didn’t really matter though.

You were still not Enough


And the festivities ended

with the leaves turning a crispy brown. 

The ponds that once thrived 

were suffocated by a green film

that rested on the surface. 

In the depths,

everything decayed,

and the fish were  slowly strangled

into sleeping.

The algae apologized for their indulgence 

but there was no time for sorry or 

for saving.

In their guilt, 

they died too


It was too late 

to say goodbye, 

to say What if life was different? 

It was time to go, 

while you still had your soft, broken heart 

beating steadily on 


Once you saw a girl snap a stick in half, and 

scrape the thick algae off the water, 

so it could see 

the cotton candy sky. 

But the green ribbon slipped off,

continuing to divide 

the living and the dead


Did remembering count as loving? 

You only asked because you were beginning to forget

all your memories.

Which were delicate silks of time 

Which drifted away from you.

Or was it you who was drifting from them?


Maybe it could be restored–

the little pond, the swimming ducks, the broken world.

There was action and there was hope.

You needed both


When you crossed out of your former life into a new one,

you broke your shell of death,

and began to dance.

What was it like when the world was made new?

There would be time for answers, but for now

it was enough to know

it wasn’t the end

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