1.
Where the water
holds your head.
You can find me there.
Where the sky is
something to drink.
You can find me there.
2.
She had made a cage
of her own room that summer
afternoon. The keys of which
she'd lost within the clutter
of her prefrontal cortex. I never knew
her well (the sister of a friend)
but sweat smells of loneliness
in the August sun, and I
never could keep a closed door shut.
3.
Reminiscence: fragile air of the newborn morning cut in two by the R&B whistle of a drifting boy.
4.
I was living day to day,
that was my failure
– my cage
or so I had concluded,
but maybe it is impossible
to live without failure,
to see beauty
without knowing the
crush of sloth.
5.
I’m sure the screaming
light of a computer screen
does not strike many as melancholy
against the barren midnight dark.
But in the aching of my eyes
a certain sweetness comes
to the air, so I let open
the doors of my mind
and watch as the water
of time floats off with another
summer day.
6.
Eyes open
emerald light
through the eves
of a tent.
The loon cries
from an imagined lake
and in her song
beauty.
Where the water
holds your head.
You can find me there.
Where the sky is
something to drink.
You can find me there.
2.
She had made a cage
of her own room that summer
afternoon. The keys of which
she'd lost within the clutter
of her prefrontal cortex. I never knew
her well (the sister of a friend)
but sweat smells of loneliness
in the August sun, and I
never could keep a closed door shut.
3.
Reminiscence: fragile air of the newborn morning cut in two by the R&B whistle of a drifting boy.
4.
I was living day to day,
that was my failure
– my cage
or so I had concluded,
but maybe it is impossible
to live without failure,
to see beauty
without knowing the
crush of sloth.
5.
I’m sure the screaming
light of a computer screen
does not strike many as melancholy
against the barren midnight dark.
But in the aching of my eyes
a certain sweetness comes
to the air, so I let open
the doors of my mind
and watch as the water
of time floats off with another
summer day.
6.
Eyes open
emerald light
through the eves
of a tent.
The loon cries
from an imagined lake
and in her song
beauty.
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