in my dreams i never wake up before i hit the ground. i always hit the ground and then see myself through until after the autopsy. odd.

poetry

visions of clean pillows
stacked behind me so should
i fall
it arches perfectly back
spine, shoulders, neck, and head
to the soft landing
my dreams keep leaving out

poetry

Is it the osh
or the dissapointment
bubling and gurgling,
stirring within
threatening to come up?
And I hope the osh will
because perhaps in that
meaningless action
I can show my solidarity
in a meaningful way.

With my apologies for my long absences from the sieve

poetry

I keep coming and going,
entering and exiting,
writing and avoiding,
wondering who’s to blame
besides my own priorities.

the sieve and the sand

Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother's poetry blog.

Day: October 21, 2008

in my dreams i never wake up before i hit the ground. i always hit the ground and then see myself through until after the autopsy. odd.

With my apologies for my long absences from the sieve