I do not give her enough attention, but she is always there when I need her…
Naomi
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sunsets
sometimes i think
i could catch the sunset
if i cup my hand just right
and i would place it in my pocket -
the one on my shirtfront -
and it would bulge
like a big rubber ball
and you would ask me,
“what’s that in your pocket?”
and i would tell you the sun
but you wouldn’t believe me
so i would take the sun out
and show you the sun
and i would let you hold it
in your hand
and you would know what it’s like
to touch a sunset
much needed…
It may not be poetry, but it sure tastes like it…
dusk (haiku/senryu)
fading blue to black
small frogs croak their nightly song
i may need a drink
wake up
there’s a pain behind your eyes
you’re just scratching at the surface
of something that never existed anyway
heavy breathing
heavy footsteps
heavy…
life
stop asking for forgiveness
i’m no savior for you or anyone
what’s worth saving anyway
it’s unbecoming
un-ladylike
un…
couth
all the good stuff is at the bottom of the bottle
tip it over and tongue it like a lush
stumble through the darkness
fiddle with the keyhole
say “fuck it” and crumble to the floor
sleep
you’ll wake when the sun breaks through dirty windows
half-hung over
all the way gone
ready for another round
alberto (haiku)
season upon us
winds blow heavy off the coast
it’s not even june
cafeteria christians…
may be my new favorite derogatory name for someone since The Bloggess coined the phrase “douche canoe”.
read more about what a ‘cafeteria christian” is.
-just sayin’
another saturday night
there’s a half-empty bottle of jack
laying on its side atop the motel dresser;
thick amber drips and pools -
like a message -
on the tile floor
reflecting blue, red, blue
from the neon sign outside the window
he sits in a chair as worn as himself
and watches the bottle
she sits on the end of a bed
stained with memories
and watches him
with eyes sad as rain
he stands;
moves lazy to the door
and into the cold november night
she stands;
picks up the bottle,
wipes a tear from her cheek
and washes down the pain
you and me
we can run
straight up the mountain
leap through clouds of fire
and land easy on the water below
you
and me
a river to nowhere
and dreams
is anything else needed?
wanted?
we could be free
you
and me
a note for myself
“self completion is akin to emotional masturbation”
- this is more for me than anything. i commented it on a blog over at sarahjaneprosetry, which is an excellent collection of poetry and prose, by the way (you should check it out) and wanted to write it down where i would see it and remember it because i may use it later…
that is all
