weekly dose of poems
white noise, nov. 30th
the silence -
the unwavering and wonderful silence.
chills my bones dry.
some people, they prefer the silence,
the lonely whistle in the wind.
but i need a low hum laying under everything.
some kind of bizarre company that hides in the sounds
we drown out.
i tried to keep my head above the waters -
and with my eyes, i colored in the white noise.
galaxy eyes, dec 26th
last night i cried under a full moon
i didn't know stars were falling out of my eyes,
but i flooded the streets -
turned the sky on its head.
the ground, a pool of constellations.
a mess of celestial light.
here in my hometown, no star was born,
but all the stars died.
glow in the dark, jan. 6th
you left the candle unattended.
tisk tisk. although i must admit, the room smells sensational
i apply cold cream while you shake a bottle of advil pm.
i never liked pajama pants or chamomile tea -
you place both on the bedside table.
the only lullaby i slept soundly to was my mother's "sweet baby james."
sleep like that only lingers for so long.
now i lay with my face down,
and when you stir, i simmer.
i break the yolks while flipping the egg and look at the bleeding sun in my frying pan.
i look at the bleeding sun in my window.
i look at the bleeding sun and blind my eyes.
i can only see in the dark, where the unknown glows and nothing is nothing.
stacks, august 7th
things placed on top of things
on top of things
on top of things
building sky scrapers that no one can see the top of
they look around to find holes in the foundation
a place to weasel out from under
the weasels look at everyone with a bittersweet eye
knowing they are the only ones getting out alive
the blueprints were flawed –
you put the pencil case on top of
"the truman show," which was already stupidly placed upon a pocket sized notebook,
where i wrote about possibilities instead of defeat.
there's only so much height you can reach
without tipping over,
spilling, seeping into the ground
lost to the worms and the buried treasure