Dandelion You can eat me. Fill yourself with wishes and sunshine, Before we blow away. Traveling as far as the mind allows. We are there. We are. In the rivers and the flower boxes spilling over. In the concrete’s cracks, make a map: an amicable descent into knowing. The way is clear, paved by a wind laughing at our back. We shall spin in circles, wrap in lavender and honeysuckle, invite the bees to hum and buzz. This ground is perfect for planting, for spreading far and wide. I will carry you. I will carry you. With such heart. Cloud So easy to float So easy to float it is So easy to change shape When the water fills me. A cat, stretching out a sleek expectant paw. A dragon breathing fire. A rose in the midst of bloom. And, you, your face, and the faces of others like you, When you look hard enough, squint your eyes at my neighbor: sun, there is a house with fire, billowing, sweeping the blue, and you, away. There are expectant bodies in the grass, Some twisted, others straight, And I expectant too. Floating along in the clearest blue, I wait, for expectant bodies in the grass, for laughter and a ladybug crawling (she is my lookout, telling me when) And then I shift (slowly and surely) Into every memory of a Blooming world.
About the author
Allison Baldwin is a poet whose work combines authenticity with sass. She laughs with her entire body, marathons crime television, and writes poems that are “unpredictable, but still make sense.” Most recently she has been published in Tuxedo Arts Journal of Dominican University of California where she is pursuing her MFA in Poetry and Poetic Medicine. She also served as Project Coordinator for the Access Granted Project, a photo essay/community writing project that centered the lives of those with disabilities living in New Jersey. In addition to coordinating projects, she has also facilitated and participated in a variety of open mics and poetry shows in her local community.