April 27, 2007

• 2 poems

  this night is mine

  how can I sleep
  when there are blank pages
  and the backs of envelopes fill
  with the seeds of (maybe)
  ideas

  how can I
  sleep as minds drop away with each moment
  clearing the
  air full of //ideas//
  without the grasping chatter

  how
  can I sleep when
  I have ascended to the pinnacle
  of this [every] day
  transcending –finally– circumstance
  Sysyphus in a minivan

  loquacity

  all these words
  are effluence
  clogging the arteries of consciousness
  stringing together (((placeholders)))
  to create a space
  signifying
  the quiet felt
  in small moments

  slavishly seeking
  theoneword
  that will connect us to
  everything

  silence

  • 4:30 am
  • 5 Comments