gulls, and the mosaics of dreams

i broke pencils with too hard a grip
as i tried to write my thoughts as if
i were chiseling them into my skull
it’s no wonder i often feel the pull
of a headache coming on, i slip
over the words, feeling a bit foolish
i imagine myself at times like a gull
making up for gloomy days
by stripping dull coastlines of
shiny litter – trying to make
the most of imperfections,
finding value in the gold
that doesn’t always glitter –
before it stashes itself away into
waves walking with the sun
before it sets and burns away
the things i forgot to write in my head
which will fade into a strange
mosaic dream, outlined
in ocean blue and sunset red
___
backdated Post a Day poem for April 6th, 2017

below

the sun gave a cranky, ugly
resounding
NO, flopping over on her side
letting the rain clouds grow
until they had no other place to go
except down and on to the frowns
of people slowing their walks
and carrying their umbrellas
held high as their emotions dipped low
everyone feels the sun’s sadness,
her light hollow and bleached out against
the sidewalks below our feet

___
backdated Post a Day poem for April 5th, 2017

where my words are sometimes found

sometimes i find them
falling in the rain
other times i see them perching on
clouds’ silver linings
they rarely run red lights but
enjoy the occasional reckless flights
high above canyons or deep into
wishing wells at night, sometimes i find them
twirling their fingers, adding a little
enchantment to magic spells –
i often catch them in the corners
of my eyes, shining on the backs
of rivers or flowers crowded
along sidewalks, sometimes i
even find them during the quiet,
between the moments
you choose to pause or choose
to talk; occasionally
i chisel them
from rocks and stones –
often, and quite emotionally
i’ll extract them
from my heart and bones,
sometimes i even find them
stamped in a cat’s paw prints
in pollen on car hoods in the spring
or even in the last breath of a snake
curled up in a hawk’s claws
or a child’s cry from an unfortunate
bee sting –
mostly, i find
them out in the sun where they tend
to catch my heart on fire – other times
i feel them in the moonlight
where they run a little too cold,
pressing blue frostbitten hands
hard against my soul
and sometimes i find them softening,
warm for the world, in the eyes of
fawns and foals

___
backdated Post a Day poem for April 4th, 2017

swearing; steering

music beautifully swears
about the things that tear
at the bruises of my scars
which is why we turn her up
to push pain out into the sunlight
as we dig our nails into
the steering wheels of our cars
sending us into some direction
while feeling directionless

___
backdated Post a Day Poem for April 3rd, 2017

leftovers

time is hungry, eating itself tirelessly
morning, noon, and night –
once it eats up a minute, seconds later
it has eaten up the hour and comes back
for seconds, thirds, and fourths –
and right when you think time has
run its final course, eating up your last
breath, your death was just another pinprick
and continues without remorse with everyone else
the next day, eating what’s left in the cabinets and pantries
whatever it wants for itself

___
backdated Post a Day poem for April 2nd, 2017

sad blooms

tiny shadows appeared –
as the rain clouds loomed
and leered from the skies,
the shadows grew larger and
bloomed tears that stung
the corners of my eyes, leaving them
red across the edges, burning like
the sunset on a horizon left
wet from the storm from which
numbness and detachment
were born to keep the sadness from
rising again and bending
my worn face down – i’ll
keep the shadows in their room
right here, inside my heart –
because i can’t imagine
a moment in my life in which
we could ever be apart

___
backdated Post a Day Poem for April 1st, 2017.

feather rafts

sleeping, my brain became
hungry and started gnawing at
the seams of my pillow, until
my mind sunk softly
into strange dreams –
i floated on a raft of feathers,
my quilt the sail – it began to tell
it’s odd little story – i crashed
into the stars, they were melting like
candle wax into stringy long-legged spiders
leaping across walls, startled –
i awaken, thinking i had heard my
own footsteps down the hall


backdated Post A Day Poem – for March 31st, 2017.