They have never stopped watching me
or reminding me of my own,
inferior pair that cannot shoot
sweetness at the world’s
avid mouths. They lurk
in mirrors and behind drapes,
disguise themselves as crockery,
solar flares, or bells that ring
backwards: wholly holy.
If they were ever to blink,
we would all disappear—
let’s keep them under wraps
and over underwires where
they’ll be safe. Only then can men
preserve our immense dignity
and not tremble like virgins
at the sight of them,
for the truth is they are the most
Even as your figment I have my limits.
I will not, for example,
join your network on LinkedIn.
I will neither architect nor incubate
your cloud-based growth strategies.
Deep dives into data are dangerous
if you’re boiling the ocean. Best
to circle back and drill down—
but let mine be the box you think
outside of. I charge by the minute
and day-dreaming is not—
to paraphrase Bill Gates—
an efficient allocation of time resources.
I am not your low-hanging fruit,
and at the end of the day, you can’t
leverage my deliverables or turn
me into another sounding board.
You don’t need me. Given
your mouth’s open-door policy,
you’re hollow enough to echo
The Turk’s cap lily is one of summer’s
most exotic blooms. How sumptuous
they can be as dark varieties, springing open
to curl back on themselves and reveal why
they are called the Turk’s caps.
All have a flash of orange pollen
which is lethal to cats.
As little as two leaves or part of a single
flower have resulted in deaths.
Clinical signs of lily intoxication
include salivation, vomiting, anorexia and depression.
Polyuric renal failure leads to dehydration
and anuric renal failure and death results.
The public must be made aware—
the majority cannot correctly identify
the plants in their own homes.
I first saw this European Turk’s cap
running wild among the bright Astrantia.
The scent of a lily is an incredible thing.