Are you sound of mind?
Addicted to dandelions
like the ocean is to ice.
Wait outside the blood bank,
learn how to write dialogue
and make saccharin spines.

My journal is a tangle of spines,
keep an open mind
help me box up my ****** dialogue.
I’ve always been a fan of dandelions
etching paths along the river bank,
streams within the winter ice.

Buckets of camphor ice
relax the notches in spines
as we wait in line at the food bank.
Thoughts of jawbones on my mind,
the taste of dandelions
and organized pre-scripted dialogue.

Backhanded blue dialogue,
counting the vanilla crystals of ice
blowing the smell of cinnamon into floating dandelions.
My hands handle happiness spines
with the peace of mind
of money in the piggy bank.

Let's rob a bank
shooting quiet malleable dialogue
through an altered state of mind.
Your ribs are two sheets of ice
ivy wrapping around our intertwined spines
crumbly blowing breaths of dandelions.

Second hand dandelions
build up in the river bank
muddy trenches around spines
whisper outspoken blue green dialogue.
Three pounds of dry ice,
warm water vapour at the back of my mind

Store buy your dandelions, bear in mind
that the West Bank is covered in ice
and that spines speak their own muted dialogue.

young hands picked dandelions
for their mothers and their fathers.
they pick, and pick, and pick
until a bouquet forms in their hands
because their family deserves
only the brightest, most beautiful of flowers.

young hands tie together the dandelions
to form necklaces and rings,
to form crowns to go along with their bright kingdom,
because there are so many of them,
and because royalty must wear
only the brightest, most beautiful of flowers.

young minds look up to their older cousin
with a crown of flowers and a bouquet held high,
but the older cousin is drowning,
and he has been dulled by the world,
so he throws down the bouquet,
and knocks off the crown.

and you'll cry,
because you wanted to give him
only the brightest, most beautiful of flowers.

the cousin will take away part of your light
to break it to you that dandelions are not flowers;
they are weeds.

and forever after,
the world will be a little bit more dull,
and the yellow will seem less bright,
the smile on your face will shrink a bit more,
the twinkle in your eye will start to fade.

but maybe if you opened your mind again,
you could notice that dandelions are still beautiful.
refuse to let the world take the things you love
and ruin them.
remember that in your young mind,
you once believed that dandelions were
only the brightest, most beautiful of flowers.