Monday, April 14, 2008

anything! write something! now!

where are we going

comparing his to mine, them to us

orange to blue, yellow to purple

always opposite, up or down, yes

no, where does bipolar make sense

if the arctic ice melts into vast sea

nightstand trivia, or is it

the last thing to see as the light

goes off, and darkness settles

into all corners, unsure until she

lies still, breathing into soft sighs 

watchful, still wondering if all the babies

are in their rightful places, the animals

secure, the birds brought in from the porch

floor swept, leftovers wrapped

was there time to contemplate and gaze

oranges are still on the tree in full bloom

filling an acre with sweet scent below blue

sky filled with swallows and hummingbirds

not sure how the nightstand works here

except that it is the place that holds

space for eyeglasses and beloved books

red bone mala and prayers whispered

comparisons litter mind and landscape

if only this were different and I could whip

out a poem a day and paint a picture

or at least a layer, and there we go

off and running in circles of critisism

self inflicted agony.  stop right there

come back to the nightstand 

small square under the light

place for Madonna and child

my favorite pen and two tall

teetering stacks of books


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