Poem-A-Day #345 : Breakfast

I think I get weirder as I get older.


Breakfast

How smile you
are today a leaf
fanning chains
of fire -

Smoke is teeth
purl & knitted
sound of fog
growing -

How ominous
cooling though
ice forms from
coffee
          it didn't
have the chance
to even operate
to glow -

Poem-A-Day #195 : Before You

Before You

It's light in the room or dark in the room
either way she's knitting in the corner

There are cobwebs or everything is hospital
rooms collapse together and furniture assembles
into small murders of turned legs and flat expanse

Imagine the room before you
there were probably others who entered but maybe not

For a moment pretend you are the first here
before your eyes were here in their skull the room was not

The threads of it were busy of course
pulling themselves together for the eventual seeing
but otherwise there was only the void of not

She was here knitting though
blind to the concept of seeing

There is a tingle at the back of the skull
that is the signal that things aren't all right
that it is perhaps time to run for it

You should always embrace that feeling it is
the feeling of saving your ever-loving flesh

It's a trap
the thinking of yourself as the first
it's a kind of magic and a kind of narcissism

To look away would be to erase yourself
the room will unmake walls will not hold each other up

She will pick her thread though
will measure it against the length of her arm
will place the heavy shears to the length

There is the option to not look into the room
to not allow it to exist at all

Though no one has ever not looked