spring journal

my poembrain is entering a new season.
it's like the winter sends all the words roosting into my head, crammed and sharp and tornadic.  they uncontain themselves from pressure.  when the planet swings back around again they warm like honeysap and drip down the inside of my shell.  they're throbbing and resting in my limbs and torso and face now like singing birds in my branches and it feels so nice, but they don't go to spitting out my type-fingers much.  i feel like everywhere i go lately people can sense this change about me.  strangers snapping at my heels.  i don't mean to have hubris. 

my haunches twitch when i am still, lurch when i'm walking, trying to run.  i have swinging skirts and can be kind without being stomped over.  i can love without being a crutch/martyr to someone.  i can listen to all kinds of music lately without it hurting too.  or it hurts but not bitterly.  i want to romp with friends like young coyotes.  i want to be on my bicycle and tear into the ground all day.  feel the muscle get hard again.  put my hard muscles to loving.  be sweet and hard and mostly true.  it's okay to be these things i think.