My current trend in writing is to treat it like bits of code. Debugging as time goes on (fixing spelling/grammarish issues).

Most of these poems will rest the way they are written, but given time and interest many will see a patches or 2 before it is over.


Got the time.

This morning might melt
The velveeta sheets
This morning might wilt
The lettuce blankets
This morning has brought
Coffee to it's knees
This morning has called my
Clock a filthy lair

Facial ticks mark time better
Than some crystal beads
laid up on
Her supple,
bending wrist
Each tick to tock
separated by mini gaps
Leaps or bounds
From one cavern to the next cave
Hands are watched and
go round and round

About ten minutes to nine
That’s where it stopped
Here became the there
I will be at
Then the bed became a basket
Small as a wooden casket
That is drifting upon a river
With Lilly pads,
and frogs knees bumping
long into the dark night

If we all happened at once
If this morning was nothing
More than tomorrows dinner plate
If i woke in the same spot again
Then it would be a day
Like no other


Post a Comment

<< Home