(n) indulgence in aimless thought or dreamy imagining
My mind speaks volumes
I won’t say a word
(Mama said she’d buy me a mockingbird)
Indentured to sickness
She won’t stand a chance
Bejeweled wings flutter a commonplace dance
(If that mockingbird don’t sing)
A value of equal to or less in stature than
Some thing left to squaller
I’ve muddled it, and,
(Mama said she’d buy me a diamond ring)
For too late I find, I’ve lost peace of mind,
And those thoughts are loud enough to ponder.
Inspiration on thin ice
Those melodies don’t play nice
When you’re underground
Hairlines gathering dust
They concede that you must comply,
For at least what’s under my
Jurisdiction
Enchanted and allured by you,
Your presence changes every tune
I still remember that sweet afternoon,
When everything grew over summer
In misting steps I gather
In quiet there is sown
In mounting quakes I wither
And evil lies below
Really all I’d like to do right now is laugh.
Just laugh and laugh until I can’t remember what I was sad about anymore.
Sometimes I think if I laughed enough the whole sky could come down and I’d jump around in puddles of cloud, and the blue would be like an ocean that never boils any fish or bleaches any coral.
Once it was nighttime I’d be able to collect stars like little lightning bugs and put them in a jar, and I could swim through the inky universe and pretend I was just another galaxy floating by.
I would especially love to hang out with the moon, since she doesn’t give sunburns and always seems nice.
Anyway.
I hope it rains tomorrow.
Random prose?
Clouds like liquid smoke
Unfurl their tendrils,
Collecting thoughts,
Our minds.
Tongue slipping, speaking, out of
Time,
Touch,
Gratitude.
Sickly generations,
Old and new.
Fly that balloon
Seeking the moon
Then up and around to Mars again.
I’m visiting the ghost of you.
I was hoping we could talk it through,
But I’m the one living in these old haunts of ours
And so I guess the real ghost would be me,
Not you.
