Doorway

There are dreams where i’m laughing until I wake up, 

there are beds where i’ve slept and cried.

I have stapled forms together and created documents

detailing bone structures 

and commonplace feelings arranged in the shape of yesterday,

and tomorrow walking forward,

and today laying in bed.

Would you write me letters if I was in another state?

Or would you write me e-mails if I was in a better one?

Would you come up to my door in the evening holding a box of 

rain soaked chocolates that you thought might be a funny gesture?

I bet you ate the mint ones, 

cause you like the ones that no one else does.

I think that’s how we got in this situation,

where the doorway is like a wall.

I used to worry that sometimes you’d come up to my door in the evening,

holding a box of rain soaked chocolates,

but that was just a dream where I cried until I woke up. 

I swear I’ve had dreams where I’ve laughed until I woke up.

I’ve slept in beds where i’ve cried.

Would you write me letters if I was in another state?

Would you leave the mint ones,

the ones you normally eat, 

and do something different for a change,

maybe that’s how we got in this situation,

where the doorway holds our chains.

Wore the Lip

Salt marks in the palm lines,

chalk it up to laugh marks and good times.

I wore the lip of the ancients on my ear lobe like the Summer kiss,

while your eyes oceaned and shore lined, brown on crystal blue

like a rare gem in the cave walls,

like a cooled stone in the volcano crevice.

I like when you squeeze me. 

I like when you sneak little things into the space between us. 

——

Post 6,100.

Devil Dust

The devil dust between your toes,

grows thicker than the desert rose,

that drove us out of Holcome county,

I heard it all on the radio.

The Summer burned and said to go,

so we wrote our map to Mexico.

And beneath the brush and trees,

we jumped like sandy fleas,

while the devil dust between our toes,

grew thicker than the desert rose. 

Petals

Don’t fall petals down,

I will tear them into crowns

and wrap them up upon your head.

if you light my lamp,

I’ll bake your bread.

Meow

You are a sweet morning,

tumbling back and forth underneath covers.

sun falling on skin lightly.

corners of mouths upturned and welcoming.

Sweet roses come grow,

in water and through hands tracing lines, 

tracing shapes.

I want to know you.

——————

The Sun Is a Hot Ball of Gas That Gives us Life.

I would travel to galaxies and stars with you anytime. 

Your heart is slinking fair form calligraphy that falls from your lips,

you are beautiful honest truth and shrieks of laughter.

———

Sleepy me is not doing to well on the poetry front.

But I had a cool fun night when it came down to it. With a wonderful appearance by Punk Rock Girl.

Down to business tomorrow. 

Weight

Bricks on my shoulders?

I ask for rocks and I get boulders,

I’m not asking to get wiser and older,

I’m asking to get hotter than colder.

Don’t ride on lightning bolts and expect your skin to molt,

for new skin to grow back and form leather bound memory

books. 

You are there, 

effervescent and alive in sockets,

fluid filled. 

Sun and Stares

Trip on dried leaves of grass,

drained of all their waters fast,

I sunk your ships and crashed on shores

then worked my way through wooden doors,

I believe that if you stare into the sun,

you don’t go blind 

you see the heart of desire.

It burns away everything else.

Oreo brand sandwich cookies

When you are eating Oreo brand sandwich cookies, and you bite into a piece of ham and realize that in fact you are not eating Oreo brand sandwich cookies, but you are eating a ham sandwich with lettuce and mayo. The coffee pot dings. Or maybe it was the doorbell. You look up and your wife is standing there, coffee mug in hand, laughing. Oh, John. You’re so forgetful after the accident.