in the red chair,
in the corner.
in the evening,
in the rain.
in the wakening,
in the theater.
in the dusk light,
in the same.
I am sleeping,
I am flying.
I am mustard,
I am tame.
I am lonely,
I am tired.
I am passed out,
I'm the same.
19 November 2013
22 October 2013
What Is Everything
In the bagel store on a Saturday morning, giant babies order very specific lattes (double chai, half caff, 2%), and sit outside with their dog on the portable dog bed; sit inside in their giant baby running gear; wonder where the line starts, wonder which baby should order next.
"What is that?" one says, pointing at the reflection in the silver steel counter top.
"What is that?" another says, staring at a cup of fruit.
"What is that?" a giant baby squeals, unable to contain her excitement.
"What is everything?" concludes another.
Realizing that this, this explains it all, the giant babies try to nod in agreement, but their neck muscles are not fully developed and their heads flail.
"What is that?" one says, pointing at the reflection in the silver steel counter top.
"What is that?" another says, staring at a cup of fruit.
"What is that?" a giant baby squeals, unable to contain her excitement.
"What is everything?" concludes another.
Realizing that this, this explains it all, the giant babies try to nod in agreement, but their neck muscles are not fully developed and their heads flail.
13 October 2013
Several Dream
In dreams--You
give birth to squirrels and I
chase coconuts into deep blue,
crack them like geodes to
reveal the gold inside. Then the spring bridge
gives way, and we
fall through,
crack our heads on the rocks below
wake up as
rolled, wet toilet paper, Marty's dad
saying, "It'
s OK. We
can
save them!" (The CPR only
squeezes the water out,
creating a puddle below the hospital bed.)
When I wake up from this I'll say, "I had a dream that I was a human, and I had a life and dreams."
Something will ask, "What do you remember?"
I will respond:
Nothing in particular. Two others. The squirrel. And every tiny second following.
give birth to squirrels and I
chase coconuts into deep blue,
crack them like geodes to
reveal the gold inside. Then the spring bridge
gives way, and we
fall through,
crack our heads on the rocks below
wake up as
rolled, wet toilet paper, Marty's dad
saying, "It'
s OK. We
can
save them!" (The CPR only
squeezes the water out,
creating a puddle below the hospital bed.)
When I wake up from this I'll say, "I had a dream that I was a human, and I had a life and dreams."
Something will ask, "What do you remember?"
I will respond:
Nothing in particular. Two others. The squirrel. And every tiny second following.
28 September 2013
26 September 2013
Don't Walk away in Silence
I am sitting on the couch.
I am staring at the wall,
The wall with the darkened tv,
The wall with the darkened hearth.
I am sitting on the couch.
My back is to the window.
I am sitting on the couch.
I am staring at the wall.
I am staring at the wall,
The wall with the darkened tv,
The wall with the darkened hearth.
I am sitting on the couch.
My back is to the window.
I am sitting on the couch.
I am staring at the wall.
15 September 2013
An Egyptian Digital Legacy Haiku
"Death, here we come. We
are not afraid of you, but
you of us." -Facebook
are not afraid of you, but
you of us." -Facebook
11 September 2013
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