dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: morning

I choked on a fossil

In my Monday breakfast bowl.

That fundamental failure slid

From my spoon into my soul.

The artifact was floating

In the morning’s milky murk

The flaw I thought I’d buried

Was excavated, forever lurks.

we all make streets
between breakfast and lunch,
finger-painting yellow lines,
kneading the concrete,
preparing its dark dough
for midday sun
until we are tired
and it is smooth

Wake me up

With a solo on pink rubber band strings,

Sing softly a Jamaican hymn,

Rub your cool gold rings

Across my forehead

And splash stained glass

Colors across my toes.

Gently dip me in life,

Dye me beautiful.

Blue wallpaper pasted to the floor,

Hardwood walls and white-tiled door.

Half-awake, heavy eyelashes fall

Blending room with dream and all

The skylines in the world

Are blowing, unfurled by

Sleepy breaths

In and out, lift fingertips

To skyscraper to lips

Warm with morning,

Soft enough to sing.

Each morning

Mist gathers

Like dew in the mind.

Thought droplets hug

Each cranial curve

Causing sleepy heads

To droop

Until sunshine

Dries the

Mental condensation.


We shift to sleep,

Downward like gears in a car,

Kettle bells an extension of our arms,

Elevator arrow down,

No lullabies just sighs to snores

To sunlight in the morning.