I hung onto raindrops
That caressed a blurry,
Single paned window
Sitting empty in a dusty house,
Too tall for company.
I flicked white paint
Peeling along the border,
Imagining my memory
Washed away by a doorbell
That signalled good news.
Of course, a dream
Only dreams,
For never has a swan been seen
Basking among scarred lands:
Desolate trees with
Children’s toys scattered,
Left behind in a moments rush
Towards a meaning to all this silence.
Tag: window
Barren Tree (day 1654)
I have called you again
Tracing rain drops
Down my bleeding window
And answering to shadows
The barren tree outside
Casts upon my heart.
Acid (day 1608)
Acid inflections
Purge soul from desire,
Lingering intentions
Carry my night:
Left lane right lane.
I curve your heart
Around crescent moon
Shaped stools
Delicately dancing
At the feet of my wisdom;
Tooth: sweetened.
Biting into a Caesar brick
Closed around uninviting
Revelations,
A pale ghost runs around
The neighborhood tonight.
Grasp at my turnpike.
Leave an overspent
Midnight dance and
Recoil in pure madness
Like a sesame seed bagel,
Cream cheese.
If I wasn’t a sorcerer
Scrambling dimes
To make a call,
I’d hover gently around
My window,
Until brakes
Were squealing as night set.
Can my name
Become an icon
Dressed in black
Upon your wall?
Can a dollar get me beggars
Shooing shines
At half past twelve?
And like a crawling rat
A hood makes my figurines
Sound silent,
Grooving effortlessly
Into a sea of closed doors
That pacify each and every
Bond I’ve made
Through a long night:
Solitude.
Windows (day 1595)
Windows make passing seasons
Feel another world away
And here I sit inside
Passing my time
Lost in wanderlust
Morning Ritual (day 1565)
My morning ritual is equal parts balance and disregard.
I curl out of long embraces
And yearn for another warm
Set of arms that can caress me
As coffee does.
My heart is ready, and embraces
Randomized patterns of light
Streaming through South-East facing windows,
And entirely unready for children screaming
As they bounce their balls
Through the playground across the street.
Even conversation is hard when my thoughts still linger
About webs my subconscious wove
Whilst I rested a while.
And here I am, embracing dry, heat infusing sun
And stepping naked into boxed rain
That shall strip me of these memories
And click restart
For a clean day I shall reign.
Ferry Loads (day 1515)
I was caught between a Ford F150 and an overloaded Subaru station wagon,
A family of 6 had stuffed her so tight their hands were all hanging out the windows,
Each with a cigarette loosely dangling there.
I had packed modestly, as usual.
My father had taught me years ago the beauty of a single pair of undies.
My copilot was fanning herself with a rolled up magazine the terminal operator had casually offered her,
Nobody could think straight with such heat.
The huge doberman hanging out in the back of the Ford had it’s tongue rolled out so far it seemed rather comedic to us,
Poor dog was probably suffering back there.
Waiting there was a bustle of excitement to and fro,
Like watching an ant hive;
Some things we just never understand,
Seemingly busyness of humans and ants for no particular reason identifiable.
We waited thirty five minutes there and watched,
Every single one of us in that oversized parking lot,
As the ferry slowly pulled into its parking spot and unloaded a few hundred passengers,
Eagerly anticipating our own turn to single file our way into a large metal box, freshly whitewashed.
Predicting (day 1511)
This is a window.
This bilge is a dance
That lifts souls into grace,
Purifying attack
And forgetting to release
And lying down, prone,
To accept every torrent
Lapping at this vessel
Without expectation,
Without predicting
And judging little nuances
So defining our spirits
As if they were character flaws.
Don’t let this come as a surprise.
Don’t fall down blankly,
Dumbstruck by unmanageable inputs
And acting out in ignorance.
No, this is a window;
Cleanly un-hinged and placed into
A four corner boxed view
Into unexpected.
Polo Shirts (day 1448)
Rhythm is a magic thing.
Ebb.
Flow.
It takes the heart
And encircles it with
Falling Autumn leaves
And afternoon window shoppers
Dressed in
Late-morning-sunshine-yellow polo shirts
And walked-a-mile shoes.
Rhythm is two steps
For every one breath
On a muggy evening
Along a windy, ocean view
Pedestrians only path
In a healthy city.
Rhythm is necessary,
Just as long steady gusts for big bubbles
And late afternoon naps are.
Because if the heart takes a leap
And forgets which beat
Is flip flopping around deep inside,
Then all mastery of any subject
Is floating lifelessly away
Amidst breadcrumbs scattered for ducks
In a sea of slugs on a hungry Tuesday.
Designs (day 1447)
Design my days
Into uninspired dribble,
Show my windows as
Dirty insensibilities.
But alas,
As duties depart
And ideas impart,
My step shall start
To excite my heart.
At Home (day 1439)
My reality is filled with love:
A backyard of such splendor,
Vigor wafting through my open window
Singing sweetly to this heart
In a home of one thousand cats.