Posts Tagged ‘sleep’

Snow Angel

She became alone
in order to get
Time to discover
why it was
she felt so alone.
even when she wasn’t.
Attached like a starfish
to her bed.
Attached like color
to her sheets.
Sheets that oscillated
between a second skin
and fire.
Fire to be removed
until the cold
of her basement room
crept back onto her
like a Swan.
So she would kick
them away if needed
and pull them close
when needed.
So she would kick
him away
and call him back
when needed.

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I awoke to realize
I had become
accidentally ordinary.
My bed, more of an estuary,
with satin blue blankets
was the size of my world.
Sure a quick exit
here or there
to brush my usually extraordinary
hair, to coax them down;
to order them.
Fraudulent extensions
like a full bookshelf
of poetry I haven’t read
and other pretensions
line a wall too clean, too new,
to belong in this world.
My door, more like a shore
or the open mouth of a sea
devours me whole
gray suit, blue tie, a strictly
business black coffee and
bran muffin soul.
I work to come home
and sleep again
with the wife I gave it all to.
Her ordinary body worth more
than the paintings and music
I once adored.
We sleep in a tide, that washes
over us to make smooth
stones. Nothing to mark us
as different, to make us hate
or misunderstand each other.
I awoke to realize
I was ordinary
and knowing it was Saturday
I kissed her and I went back to bed.

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Modernity means silent clocks
more often than not, cell phones.
More is in store.
Time is of the essence. I am alone
Without ticks or tocks
Just a cell phone or two.

Green light means green eyes.
I hold the phone close to my face.
Still before four.
One eye stays shut just in case
A useless exercise.
It closes, my eyes are blue.

Oh but her body, oh but her skin
was so soft and serene at night.
explore her core
and find that you were right
to say her beauty was within
a soul far bigger than five foot two.

But she couldn’t stand sleeping alone.
Without a body, without my heat
too poor to adore
An immeasurable heart beat
was not enough to keep her home.
She did things I thought she would never do.

My sister complains about her lazy man.
Lucky bastard I say.
Snores and snores
from dusk until day.
He sleeps through her demands.
She should think herself lucky too.

I have realized too late what a woman needs
too late at night, too late in life.
without sleep or wife.
The only two things that I need:
“Good night” and “I love you”.

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A million morning moments
call me to bed each night
for how could I awake
next to the warmth
of your belly big with child?

If I never came back
How could I discover dreams
are ment to enhance reality
rather than betray or perplex?

Without first learning the allure
of two ice cold feet searching
under a covered world for heat-
A voyage I once loathed –
How could I come to embrace
you – even in your coldest moments.

Yet I resist closing my eyes
and reutrning to rest
until a  reluctant kiss I pry
from the woman who makes
me want to wake myself each day
but whose tranquilty
lulls me to sleep each night.

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The rising light shining through the chain
made it appear broken.
I fell asleep outside the gate, despite the rain
after we had spoken.
Light breaking steal, morning breaking night
it’s all too absurd for me.
All this sobriety makes me feel alright
despite my humanity.
For a moment its all just image, its all just story
to chain to paper, to throw away
But then I felt the light burn my face with glory
and I knew that moment was more than poetry.

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