Day: May 17, 2010

Morning

poetry

Good morning
Don’t wake me
it’s morning
I’m busy
exploring
the spaces
just between
the bedsheets
and pillows
or rather
the visions
that manifest
sometimes
I guess I’ll
be busy
all morning
don’t wake me

…one more thing

Good morning

florida monday

poetry

i get my fix alone
in my grandfather’s shoes
in my grandmother’s home

he left his shoes and tore
out his heart
she left her home and drowned
in perfume

i make my way to the
old sea
churning up sludge

i stand there and get my
fix again like all beasts but
think something of it

or think something will
come of it

i write with his pen
i whisper in her words

i let the sun asphixiate my anxiety
i shake the dirt off my skin
like a rug
i run head first into the sludge

i swim

Box of Secrets

poetry

I have a box of secrets.
No—a vault.
Locked and securely hidden
In a closet full of skeletons
Guarded by a warped pine door
Just now beginning to open.

And while this box of secrets is real
And all its contents true,
This is more than that,
This box is just a metaphor.
And really, I’m giving you my heart.

Here’s my box of secrets
Exhumed from years of effacement
And finally the cylindrical sparkle
Flanked by joints on your velvet finger
That says I’m not who I was anymore.
Here’s my box of secrets,
Take them, they’re yours.