Apple blossoms falling like snow.
I will not just go to work and die,
I’ll have a beautiful life, I promise.
I heard you were somewhere.
It’s never as bad as it seems;
Worse or better.
Hotel bathrooms,
a fire in the distance.
Another generation delirious and disenchanted.
The world has always been ending.
Get over yourself.
Just take your drugs and try not to implode.
By all means, tremble.
Play your music.
Guilty as 3 in the afternoon, nothing done,
thinking about New York City.
The people. The time.
Once, it was just an island.
Let’s look back on each other from above.
Dewdrops daydreams. Fill me up.
The sun piques my interest.
Let’s ask the wind to choose what we do today.
Spilling guts and yellow flowers.
Two glasses of wine undress me.
I’m always thinking about you.
Cannot waste time nor gift.
You wore that shade of blue again.
Don’t feel like talking.
Well, to anyone but you,
tiny spring flower.
Unchanging change.
It grows and grows.
More. More.
Life is not empty.
I will be brimming again.
The hills and the leaves saw me
fall to my knees.
Golden light between the trees.
I’m just a person.
Don’t let me go.
Max Stone is a poet, writer and artist from Reno, Nevada. He writes profiles, articles, book reviews, and art criticism and is the author of two poetry chapbooks: The Bisexual Lighting Makes Everyone Beautiful and Temporary Preparations. He is the creator and host of Landline Poetry Series in Reno.
