When you go out
for your cigarette’s
worth of daydream
and ponder
whether to take
a notebook,
or if it’s okay to
leave it behind,
Rejoice in the notion
of an indifferent universe
suffused with agony
unfair from end to end
there is no safe answer.
Someone or something
Will always get hurt,
And it’s usually me,
You’ll be damned
if you gather it up,
the pressure of having
a notepad at the ready
disrupts that universe
and often keeps coherent
dreams from forming
You’ll be damned
if you leave it behind,
a million full-fledged worlds
with history, and stories,
and people will dance
around the tree-line,
inviting you on adventures
but only if you get over
the guilt of being
unable to capture
the ephemeral.
Lady Luck, paint my trees
and give me the courage
to accept the situational
restrictions of realtime.
Author: Franklyn Monk
Ugh!
The anxiety sometimes is too much to take
So you bolt into the corona
Of a nearby star
And rejoice in the burn
For the burn forestalls the pain
Have a flower day
Melissa was thinking about flowers
No particular reason,
Today was just a flower day is all
Everybody beautiful
Everybody happy
Everybody and everything flowers
Lattes are lilies
And cappuccino roses
And the espresso machine
is a flowering garden
Where steam snakes
Sprout vines and bloom
Flowers in cups
For happy flower people
His voice is rich compost
And honey mesquite
Golden flowers pop
From his speech balloon
A humming bird darts and bobs
Lands on a branch
and jets off into the woods
A rich cacophony
green with laughter
and mad with flowers
His face the sun
his words the eager earth
his lips the rain
He gets something special
He gets holding of hands and snuggles
He gets puffy pink flowers
and bumble bees.
A Love Story
Like Romeo and Juliet
Had Juliet ran off with some other guy
And Romeo struggled a decade to die
Maybe earthquakes
First thunder
and then wind
But the thunder could have been rumbling
And the wind not that great
The thunder rolls again
But followed by clanks, and two-strike motors.
And again by light aircraft
But there has been clouds
And more thunder
With a blast of cool air
If it’s not strip mining
With the concussive wave
Somehow ferrying crispness
It might mean rain
But it’s might mean rain-
ing for days
I might been dancing for days
Naked in the rain
I haven’t
Yet there is thunder
And thunder booms hope
For a spell
Then fades into sunburn
And deliberate breathing