words are the bridges
we walk on to give
birth to the future
and put a steaming
knife in the past.
Day: November 3, 2008
Sometimes someone else has to rip off the band-aid because addiction is a bitch
poetryThe new beginning of tomorrow
will also be an ending
in which I’ll no longer have a reason
towatchcnninthemorning
whilstmunchingoncereal
tolistentonpronthedrive
whilstavoidingawreck
towatchnbcnightlynews
whilsteatingmysupper
and while I’ll miss the chatter,
filling my life with incessant white noise,
I might welcome the peace
and the opportunity to wallow
in civil apathy once more.
boxers, long underwear, pants, shirt, sweater, jacket, gloves, hat, hood, and then maybe more pants
poetrysun gave way to mist
to missing your midst
wind up and made me cold
pictures of bitter tea, rice wine
gloves gripping my hands
unnecessarily warming digits
hopes lost to crashing dreams
but not without celebration
the crust gathering on my thoughts
thick like the ground peas dried
on your otherwise pristine forehead
moving hand to face so as to miss your
mouth
with your hand knit green and yellow
booties we’ll make this the best winter
ever
without end.
the sieve and the sand 