I Confess No Large Thing I confess little because my eyes shut in pools of darkness where I sleep with head- on dreams The world folds into something manageable & longings no longer domestic, but brimming with the song of chaos & the long leaf pines sweeping vividly against the window From my bed I can see car lights, trucks, identified by the height of their muted glares so that I fall unconscious with the sight of hope on dark highways & of journeys I know the ripeness of Winter on cold panes I turn the electric blanket up as though I have an answer for everything But really - it is so small here most days And I am an avid liar creating mud pies of prettiness with small fingers I shape the pies circular & smooth and ignore the tiny pebbles that persist always in the ruin of yearned attempts I dream I am lost in a crowd of people who brood openly & speak into my face with words that blur & they will not repeat anything, simply stare until I awaken half worried, trying to remember a sentence, a word, mumbled so softly by someone, somewhere.
Posted on: Sat, 10 Jan 2015 02:46:48 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015