Zenith arrives spotlighting the grass that shattered bright streaming light into the
yellow daisies and pink cosmos and blue cornflowers and through those cyan petals into the
xanthic neurons that stimulated my sensorium like a dart, into the dusted world of nostalgia.
Wuthering tides sweep into my channels, splashing the dormant walls anew as
vessels merge into viola, the color of blood clotting the dendrite, as the blood pumps
ultraviolet violence that makes my brain burst into a strange sangria shade,
the color of blood splattering and hitting the locks that hold jars of
senses kept alive in the formalin. They slide through the glass as they finally
reassemble into floral texts that deeply engraved old memories onto the neural architecture.
Quiet passion flows in the cracks and stones, remembering all the
past times in those fields from another continent, the wildflowers sprouting again
Opulent is my bittersweetness as it flows in the paint that recolors those patterns blurred by
nocturnal visions, reimaginations of the past. But now the clear weavings of cornflowers
makes an immaterial portal from these lands of sparse grass to that meadow, the soft green
lake I could sink into, the cornflowers tickling my face. My brain. Please
kindly send me back to field outside that park, to that patch of blossoming blue,
just as I thought I could relive the cerulean dream,
I hear the wispy chimes of cornflower petals dimmed away by the sound of gasoline.
Hallucinations seize the waters, cars and voices vibrate into the waves, like a
Gail that whips me up from sleeping into the past, but it also brings seeds to the surface,
furry shuttles clinging on to my brain, my lungs, my heart. They sprout cornflowers
Evergreen in my body of botanical fantasies, illuminating those pathways,
decking those corridors with fresh bouquets gifted to me four years ago.
Cornflowers, the icon of my mental city, relight the street lamps with glittering pollen,
beaming the ray from the zenith that reopened a wistful wound in such a random place,
as I look at this small patch of grass near the parking lot in the mountains.