BeansNet: Weeds at Your Doorstep (1996)

to pour my small world of life

along that spray of whiskered weed

shadowing your house's edge,
if you might allow for some unusual color to develop there

what i'll wish to say...

growing with a smaller light, a more distilled thirst,
that i might guide this little ache,

heavy with crumpled metaphors

(i don't even own an iron for my shirts)

to your doorstep, where somedays a smile plays off you
upon me as each new key you open bursts to bloom, falls
away, leaving me to see

if i might not now fit through...
could a belling be made to but brush your ear?

a tickled invitation

to that earth where i grow?
that spray of whiskered weed shadowing your house's edge,

if you might allow for some unusual color to develop there...

t. j. m. 11/96