Thursday o5
strange dreams, black screens and calling out for God. then open eyes and shards of light upon white walls with drumming doors beneath the floor.
a returning puddle in a green bowl with minty skin.
seeds and flakes and milk.
a chattering disturbance spewing out multiple annoyances, then break.
holding up a child, a job and seeing that this is what God has done.
a yank is gushing and making me sick, but truth slips in too speaking surrender and recreation.
queasy warm drinks need chocolate and laughter, then out the window and wash the plants.
a voice too loud gets under my skin so run and run and hide and return.
peppery rice round unsliceable meat to e-words from friends enveloping frightening chances and dates or nothing at all.
a thumping heart at the thought of the forbidden butterfly fingers come.
the killing of clocks and waiting, printing, counting, watching.
then out of the grey sixty minutes roll by and six begun after four button five.
1 comment:
there is a ton implied by this poem. i don't want to read into it in a way that is contradicting to what you intend, please send me a copy with an explaination if you will.. if not i understand... it is very gripping and i am intrigued to say the least. i understand many of the ideas but a few i don't. looking worward to talking with yer.
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