i will go and

tend  to my garden of 

creativity

you fill the door way and 

unknowingly 

block my way.

i can not move past you. 

normie

she pulled up to the counter in her 

wheel chair, 

fumbling with her black wallet with the 

golden clasp..

The old man waited behind the counter, 

his eyes full of

patience and compassion. 

She waved a crispy 

one hundred dollar bill

asking sheepishly 

was there any way 

he could break a hundred?

To which he replied 

with ready wit, 

"Yeah i can break it. 

You want me to rip it in half?"

She laughed. 

for a small minute, 

he made her feel 

more human, 

the easy banter between them

bolstered her. 

she straightened in 

her chair. 

the number of hours we have together is actually 

not so large.

Please linger near the door uncomfortably

instead of just leaving.

Please forget your scarf in my life 

and come back later for it. 

-mikko harvey

little garden

 the window is open,

the scent of my 

Jasmine Blossom & Woods candle 

lit nearby.

i can hear the twinkling sounds of laughter and hollerin’ 

of the boys in the 

backyard. 

the bed is made, 

lumps from the comforter, 

bunched together like an accordion, but it is freshly clean, 

and the sight of the huge botanicals sprawled out give me 

great joy. 

i haven’t vacummed the carpet yet, 

but i am almost there. 

i took out the trash and there is also a now empty laundry basket, 

black and waiting to be filled.

emptying the chaos and 

filling the room with 

spritzes of shalom,

this finally feels like a little

garden of eden

and i can now rest until 

dinner..