#poses
human revelations in our sleep poses
she sleeps with both arms back, murmuring,
flung over her hearing head,
as if she is surrendering
nightly
me slip away for a few, only to find
her left hand ****** by her arm crook'd,
fit to her temple, as if to bear the weighty weight
of a heavy head plein des thoughts, dream-mares, tales and talks,
too dense to contemplate
without assistance,
armed support to hold on, hold up,
fighting/ accepting as a unwanted outcomes
or retrying old misdeeds
(no, no, oops, that’s me)
stirring,
she swift motions/crisscrosses her arms into an X,
a human parts tiara atop, on blond tresses, that fully messes
any remaining daytime efforts and her nighttime wild dancing^
no one reveals me,
none inform on me what positions
my containership adapts, adopts when my woke-guards
are dismissed/released and
lay unprepared to disguise my innermosts exposures
ow, early am resting comfortable with a six poem-pack of
slept hours on my tool belt,
so far this weekend one shot fired before the day officially
is belle rung and these poses thoughts
are upon what my eyes alight
can’t decide if knowing how I dance in the bed at night,
reflationary, deflationary, worth fact facing,
for this is no secret
*my sleep hours are colored,
admixture of moving pictures,
punctuated with
stills of past and future,
the poses
of how to greet, were greeted,
withstood upheld ran from wept, murdered,
faced up, faced down, go unrecorded
and the
poems residuals
and the
poem prophesying-
both!
fearful confessions for acts
committed and foretold*
Decision: I don’t want to know
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
I’m sorry if you wanted something else;
A rubber stamp, a milquetoast or a sap.
I’m sorry my independent nature is
Like giving your face a hefty slap.
If it seems I am apologizing for myself
To make an excuse for the way things are
Trust me when I tell you what I am sorry for
Is that I have let this thing go on this far.
Dressing up in formal clothes
Won't make us into something fine.
As long as we believe a fantasy
Soon we will cross some kind of line.
I apologize for not recognizing the signs
That told me how you felt about love.
The idea that the two of us are equals
Was a thing you could not rise above.
You couldn’t accept truth was important
And only make what we had implausible.
The kind of relationship you wanted
Was not only wrong, but was impossible.
I guess it got easy for me to fake it
And walk around in a huge pink fog,
Pretending you were a handsome prince
And not accept you were another frog
I don’t believe the truth can be hidden
For but a very short while if at all.
To base a relationship on dishonesty
Will ultimately make the thing fall.
Yes, I ignored the messages you gave me
I’ve been through enough of this to know
That I was part of the reason we failed;
That this is the way it would have to go.
I can’t let you completely off the hook.
Your answers to my questions were a ruse.
I am not equipped with a fairy godmother.
I never had a pair of enchanted shoes.
But I was never wishing for a magic life
Just a hope that love could turn out real.
But one of us can never do it all alone;
Half of it will be about how you feel.
Dressing up in formal clothes
Will not make us into something fine.
As long as we believe a fantasy
Soon we will cross some kind of line.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 4:52 AM UTC