Night / and I am gripped by a thought / in a state / a busyness of mental tissue-- / stuffing on the move.
LIVING MY GAP YEAR
Filtering by Category: Poems on the Go
What strangeness. / I am a body / like any other-- / comprised of defects and wonders-- / jostled along in this stealthy bus / a kneeling bus / they call it, / towards a forum of / other assorted bodies / to be watched, and / judged, and / used.
Dear dog, / Please stop relieving / yourself on me. / It hasn't rained in / forever / and the smell is getting quite rancid. / ~California fire-hydrant.
My eyes are dry and / long-time sleepless, cause verses, / they know no patience.
Can't sleep? I know the feeling:
Nothing's so bad as / a hornet in the skull for / keeping you awake. (haiku)
I had dinner with the groundhog tonight. / We both supped on greens- / mine from a plate, his from the ground / and looked at each other / across the space between / like lovers / who have said all there is to be said / and silently converse thru glances.
An unfortunate spark of thought blazed by. / Unfortunate, I say, / Because it set my mind aflame / And drove sweet peace away.
I want a life that engulfs the world / I see many things / and let my eyes wander. / Catch them if you like / but I warn you / they will tell you plainly / what there is of me / that you can know of you. / My eyes are true / as piss holes in clean snow.
Oh come and look / see the beautiful view! / He came, she pushed, / He pulled her, too / and all at once-- they flew. / The sky was blue and cloudless, / The mountain air was clean. / The children who were playing there / Ne'er again were seen.
Mornings are beauty / And not worth missing / Even for precious / Sleep.
Somebody- knock me over the head. / I want to escape / the deafening movie-theatre / blast of life / that's in my face. / Just for one / brief / childish moment.
I was on the verge / of creating something new / when a star came into my head / and seared / my bungled vision.
Home is the dish rack / with the forest of / spoons / and those / little plates / from this morning's / breakfast.
A late moon / A low moon / A full moon / A free moon. / Bind my eyes in blueness.
Haiku / shortness / is good / I like / because / it's nothing / to commit to.
Life is seeping / 'tween my lids. / And Beauty- / incandescent- / burning without fade / through the seams / and cracks of the day. / Will beauty ever cease / to be so consuming / to the eyes? I / almost / want to be released...
I'm growing and Individual / under my frail breastbone. / She hasn't been here long, you know, / she's only sprouted recently / with the rain and shine of / these seasons. / I can see that she is fresh, / she peeps out through my ribs. / I see that she bears gifts / for me, / and am conscious of unfurling regalness. / I see she knows me / and has for eons / and I only meeting her now.
Wherever you are, and / for whatever reason, / Please tread lightly / when you think of me.
I am / as sensitive to life as a patch of burned skin / is to warmth. / A little hurt, / and I sear. / A little joy, / and I sear as well / but with an other / burning.
What room have we for newness? / What's left us to reform? / Hasn't all art been done before, / every thought been worn?