I was thinking today of paint,
of drips and gobs of color,
rich and bright and full of potential.
I was thinking today of fingertips,
of dabbing your nose with blue
and adding some yellow to your forehead.
I have an urge to fling, to dip
my arms in primary colors
and whirl in circles, pinwheeling
hues and splatters.
I want to role myself in stripes
of a acrylic and crawl into bed with you,
to leave abstraction on the white sheets.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Cravings
Lace up your shoes and look me in the eyes,
its time to run until we sleep on our feet,
its time to find out how tall pine trees will grow.
I want to bang your mother's copper pot
on the bottom with a wooden spoon,
I want to bake a cookie for every
lost child and I want you,
solid and sure as granite and steel-toed boots,
and I want you.
its time to run until we sleep on our feet,
its time to find out how tall pine trees will grow.
I want to bang your mother's copper pot
on the bottom with a wooden spoon,
I want to bake a cookie for every
lost child and I want you,
solid and sure as granite and steel-toed boots,
and I want you.
Navigation
I want to draw you a map
like the one I found in my textbook,
land masses lonely in pale oceans,
colored arrows that designate
troop movements, shipping lines, exploration.
I will show you my islands and oceans,
the arrows will lead you,
they will keep you from the cliffs
and quicksand,
keep you safe from me.
like the one I found in my textbook,
land masses lonely in pale oceans,
colored arrows that designate
troop movements, shipping lines, exploration.
I will show you my islands and oceans,
the arrows will lead you,
they will keep you from the cliffs
and quicksand,
keep you safe from me.
Afternoon
Over tea she told me
he was leaving her, the china was
blue with delicate cherry blossoms.
I offered her a scone and she stained
her napkin with mascara and tea leaves,
peppermint steam rose in the air
and caught in her lashes.
I buttered my bread and ate him angrily,
consumed her pain with cream and sugar.
he was leaving her, the china was
blue with delicate cherry blossoms.
I offered her a scone and she stained
her napkin with mascara and tea leaves,
peppermint steam rose in the air
and caught in her lashes.
I buttered my bread and ate him angrily,
consumed her pain with cream and sugar.
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