the sieve and the sand

i cant feel my toes when
i numb them from the run from my
fears which i hope i can escape in
this here present reality. the naturally
deposited ground would feel gritty
if my feet were any more capable
of feeling but instead the sandpaper
texture turns silk and the catharsis
from the pain i attempt to induce
becomes something much more like
a back rub or lullaby slowly rocking me
to sleep.

five AM rise before the sun
my reflection in the water treatment pool
my feet on this trash-soiled ground
toes gripping every crevice
music and running as fast as my
legs will carry me
bring me before the throne.
before the sun.

morning comes with no milk for my child
no water for my tea
and i leave the house without my routine
broken somehow in my own strength
buying breakfast on the street as i was
denied my granola
i hop aboard my bike and head in to work
munching slowly on my egg crepe stuffed
with spicy potatoes enjoying it almost exactly
the way i like it.

then legs emerge from the potatoes and before
i would allow myself to distinguish a head
i bite
and sans-chew i spit you out.
the rest of my meal untarnished is to be
now consumed because
dang it.
there was no water for my tea.

i’m reminded of the misery
i once enjoyed as daily life
when i returned to my most
recent home and thanked
my creator for uprooting me
to greener pastures.

cars lined up in a row
patiently awaiting an idiot
fourteen cars ahead who pulled
to a stop at a green light
unaware of his mistake
because no one will FRIGGIN HONK!

the sun shines brighter out there
after passing through the fog
setting on the shore of this lake
huge by most standards but still
dwarfed by the great lakes

i find joy knowing i cannot see the
other side and the sun is out in force
both to the left and right of me.

the grass grows greener out here
but thats hardly fair given the grass
exists out here. the toilets come in
fancy grouping to separate our number
ones from our two’s because this
is farm land and human waste can
hardly be seen as waste when theres
crops to grow. to serve on people’s
tables.

the water runs clearer out there
rushing down night soil fertilized
hills of farm after farm we cant help
but want to drink what we know can
kill. so they build pots of porous clay
to run the water through and absorb
the bacteria right out of that heavy-
metal-free water.

the people grow darker out here
free from the concerns of the world
but burdened by the land to which
their great grandfathers were bound.

the cell signal.
well… it’s actually stronger out there.

sometimes thats whats needed
like a vacation for a walrus
that just wont stop blubbering

sometimes you just have to cut it out

“stop him!”
who?
“he keeps waking her up”
i’m sorry i don’t understand what you’re saying
“stop him before he wakes her up
he keeps almost waking her up”

*shudder*
and sleep.
our nights pass by these days
as though two in love anew
discovering vacation like
something.

you’re crazy in your dreams

i dreamt of long and slow
and lived it short and fast
knowing my biking will
never be faster than my
running and my walking will
unlikely impress you

thunder as an alarm
the pitter patter of rain
slowly ascending

green leafy vegetables and milk un-aged
or bowls of oily spiciness though with
most cheeses i’m in the clear. provolone
or mozzarella is seldom rotted enough
for me to get by but most swisses work
no magic at all. broccoli is not an issue
but a single slice of cabbage brings disaster
to an otherwise painless two hour trip in
my car. oh and while most peppers cause
no ruckus, the juice from cooked beans
bring me to my knees – from which i rock
back slowly onto the circle in my bedroom
which i call my bedpan.

the smell of beer,
milk soaked donuts;
the couch’s squishing sound.

with meticulous
strategy
we’ll fight for a
legacy
knowing in time we’ll
be
what’s left of a near
tragedy
turned success
story

they teach me it’s you i should learn
your insides and out.
but all i know is of your love for back rubs
and coffee
i can make you coffee each morning
(though often i forget)
and i can certainly try to rub your back
each day
but i wonder when it’s over
what i’m missing
in loving
in learning
to know much more than your
every curve
(a detail i assure you i can recite
perfectly from memory)

the learning process is certainly
not tedious, but rather daftly confusing
as i’m bewildered by why beer, donuts,
and me naked aren’t all you could
ever hope for.