Friday



something unreal
   something so sweet

counting in time

that sticks to the walls
that sticks to my feet

that seems to 
never
never
     exi s t

something so sweet

 


what 

if we woke up with yesterday's memories 

   only for our eyes to see, backwards. 

think, think under that mossy, thick oak tree.

think, think, think.

if yesterday went the way it went, nothing to change,

    just the speed of it, just as if everything went: backwards.

if we woke up to the sun setting under 

        our light brown eyes and

the clouds rolling back. 

if we woke up with the memories of yesterday, playing back

maybe, just maybe, this would all make sense. 


just to think of yesterday. 

Monday

 


today i wrote a note for the magnolia tree out front

and it went something like this: 

          beautiful magnolia, the way your branches dance

in the afternoon's bliss, s u n light       tangled within,

   how your pale bark    glistens in morning d e w and shines

once the moonlight awakens.     the way you rest your thin

branches to create lovely shadows on the l a w n , 

     (which i watch dance in the evening's sunset song)

with moss between your roots and the scent of   S p r i n g,

   I am grateful for you, a lovely nature KING.


Sunday




we met with lemon eyes 
and a good taste for men

she let me in, with a crooked grin.
   whereas she eats, the birds sing 
lullabies that send her off to sleep.
i can remember the first time she
called, i had just made tea
and rubbed honey all over my 
front door. 

from a warm hue- something 
between golden yellow and 
a lack of sleep, her beauty ate 
the atmosphere of the room 
and proved to us that time 
could melt, with the right kind 
of Jaded silk. 


if you let your tears water
years of no 
growth, Wednesdays turn 
to silk and my mind's ready
to be milked. giving up
on yourself, where your beauty
meets the eye.  beyond many
scraped knees and visions 
of the milky sky, there is
nowhere to begin. i can 
feel it more so in my skin.