dirt on the welcome mat

Monthly Archives: January 2012

I’ve made a wish in Spanish,
On a star,
With birthday candle breath.
I thought a lot in yoga,
in the shower,
climbing steps.
Now I’m sending my sandcastles
out to sea in purple pails.
I hope
the fishermen
will add
my daydreams
to their tales.


interesting interested
the difference between sleet and snow
subtleties like stalagmites grow
from our cool, dark floors
through the doors that were opened for us


chip the color off
and tear texture top to bottom
let the warm corduroy ridges
slip away 

follow barefoot
your black and white dreams
touch the tight seams
that hold them together


why

because I don’t have the patience
to grow my hair really long
because you made up lyrics
to an instrumental song
because we write our letters crooked
and doodle so straight
because they didn’t see you slip in
and marked us both late


The sky’s eyelashes
Give their Eskimo kisses
To my windowpane.
There’s no screen to catch
The soft breathless tip-touches,
Clouds blush bright lightning
As cold glass brushes
Their most subtle tenderness,
Sealed invitation
.


Twenty seven we sit,
Styrofoam solar systems 
Within cinderblock walls,
Trying not to lose our colors by
Orbiting as planned, 
Spinning eyes over the room
While paint, like sand,
Crumbles from hardened shell to 
Seats nearby.
Questioning if we represent
The magnitude of our paper labels,
We planets ponder
The implications of our majors,
Galaxies beyond
Our comprehension.


her secrets are safe
between her toes
she goes barefoot
on mud puddle days
and river-wades
and the wild-sown silents
slosh over and sink ground
dirt brown and so soft
everyone knows the smell
and sound
but nobody looks


She sat like the blurred words
Of a popsicle stick joke as
The cold blue
Of the waiting room
Dripped from her thoughts
To her hands
Until the seconds stuck to each other
Like the pages of her magazine,
Shining sideways
In a puddle on the floor.
And the hard hairbrush carpet,
Already grown into her soles,
Pricked both feet mercilessly
While she
Remembered summer
Disposably sweet.


I dozed in your stomach,
Now you sleep in mine.
My slumber was as restless
As the kids
On flight 682,
But I feel turbulence
As you smile in deep sleep
At parasitic dreams
Pirouetting through.