Saturday, May 8, 2010

Life's Work or Cheap Thrills or Anthology or Finis

Older Children

I think you created a blackhole in yourself
and the light you see
somehow becomes lost in you
you smile and laugh when our paths cross or meet
but say you are sad
holding back tears or crying
we talk of our father
he is handsome royal perfect in our memories
while mom sits between us
seeing us in the same way the light must see the day


recreating moments
is like copying your homework
down they go
the answers writ
some you know
most you forge

The Price is Right

at face value
and the crowd applauds
wishing forever were a number
repeating itself
at cost

Suicide Doctrine

I killed myself once
and can remember six hundred and fourteen bathrooms
counting the ones in my dreams
I have no idea what I look like
and often prefer the company of strangers

I recreate myself as often as I forget who I am
and try to go to places I have never been
I speak as though I have an audience
and believe suicide is melancholy
I abhor melancholy


a vision of myself for when I grow up.
unbrushed hair
a grand piano
floor carpeted with newspapers
hideabeds and holidays
when I was young.
turning five
my family threw me a birthday party
not everyone on the guest list showed up
I locked myself in our car
refused to come out
not even for my presents
I do wonder
wanting to remember
what my cake looked like that year.

Finding Poetry

he sketched scapes of her scarves
mimicking friendly monsters and mornings

she spoke seriously of sure love
mentioning many moments of musings

he suggested she seemed self occupied
so she spoke strictly in third person

One Liners

an exception to every rule
leaves some rules without exception

No comments:

Post a Comment