I crossed the threshold.
It took some time.
I paced the door
looked in the key hole
I even tested the handle
then finally, I crossed the threshold
only to find another hall
full of a hundred more wonky doors
This is a nice hall
I hall worth resting in
I’ll test some more doors tomorrow
Seasons of solitude Or Seasons of hell
I did it again
I thought about sleep more than my writing
If life could be full of sleep and cupcakes oh what a life it would be
Of course in this life my body couldn’t handle it
But maybe somewhere out there people survive on sleep and cupcakes
Maybe they keep a batch next to their bed
And they never get fat
And they aren’t bed ridden
They just like to sleep and every sleep is satisfying
I’d call it “Napsand Cupcakeica”
It’ll be great.
What did you sign up for?
Did you get it?
Did you get the thing you signed up for?
Does anyone get the thing they sign up for?
We watch on in excitement
waiting for our turn
waiting to have a place
a wife a husband
waiting for the acceptance letter
is it better than you dreamed?
is it anything you could have ever imagined?
Is it what you signed up for?
A Writer’s Wish
The blue blue
The trees bend left and right
Left and right
Could this be?
Could this be what I’ve waited for
No popped balloons
But the colors have returned
No confetti to sweep
But still a celebration erupts
Hand in hand
We pay so much
Not just with the paper dollar
We pay with our time
And our awareness
We pay with our dreams
our love our bodies
There’s got to come a time
When we start saying no
We’re not paying anymore
She curls her legs in from the cold
Her blanket isn’t long enough for her legs to stretch out
there’s ping in her shoulder
for normal people that would be a bother
for her it is a sign of hard work
it brings her hope for a real bed
and a bigger blanket
Ah the doors open
and wonder flows in
like a late menstrual cycle
from a woman who demanded a life of freedom
The imagination grows like vines inside
grasping everything in it’s web
don’t save from this dream
I don’t want to wake up yet
Little purple person
The morning crawled into my nose
and filled my chest
then continued to my legs
til I had to throw the covers off
some people grind harder than me
some sleep through their dreams
til their last breath
I’m shamefully somewhere in the middle
She sleeps sitting up
two couch cushions
I toss her favorite blanket over her legs
Even though I know she’ll kick it off
She has her hands tucked below her chin and her knees pulled in
I lean in to hug her and kiss her little head covered in brown locks
And tell her I love her
I always hope I contribute to her good dreams
Wrap me in white and send me along,
away to a place where there’s no rules
Rock me steady on a hollow log
listen for my beats, while I drift along
Gift me your love while in white I dream
but what I want is to be alone, I suppose
watch as everything escapes from your scheme
but please oh please let my lover of prose
Sing until I’m a blooming rose.