When people cry in corners
and worms populate my drive to school,
the odor is right;
the solution is highly plausible,
and I begin to rub it all over
the people I meet.
During lunch the chef talked about religion
and the man that sat across
from me lost his wife a week ago.
He looked like a skyscraper
with shrimp tails waving
in the heat of the façade.
I felt a book under my bed begin
to rise from the onion volcano.
There were answers in the vapor
and remedial laughter.
We just stared at each other
through the fire.
I shouldn’t take
These herbs, because
I will handle the tablets
of mummies.
Perhaps, nightmares of
crumbling clay faces
will actual my quickening.
With broken
Ears and teeth
In the unraveling of servants.
And for my
foolish prying of hinges
I unearth myself in attics.
I will write
That tremendously
Intriguing phrase
On a note card
And tack it
To my wall
And I will
Look at it
Every day
Until it ceases
To have
Any meaning
At all.
Time passes
And you don’t know
What I do
In the morning
In the heavy day
In the light of solar rays
What I live for
Where I stand on the
So called important issues
What I believe in
And whom I love
How far I’ve travelled
And my abandonment
And embracement
Of things and people
And my reasons why
And then I hear your voice
And I remember that
Time passes by.
Posts
All Comments
