likethejelly

sleep is a waste of time

ky — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 02:11:45 +0000

“Sleep is a waste of time,” he says
as if he’s racing against the clock
sitting up with a madman’s pen
he scribbles until after dark

His eyes are faded, his mind’s afire
But there’ll be no rest for him this life
There’s much too much to do, it is true
And much too much little time

There isn’t time to delay he says
We don’t grow young, we get gray
Sleep is a waste of time he says
More feverish and frenzied each day

But these visions I’ve seen, they come through dreams
whether waking or no, I can’t say.
But the best that I know, it always goes
will also, one day, fade.

It seems to me, to sleep to dream
is the only way to avoid collapse.
“Sleep is a waste of time,” he says
but I could really use a nap.

anti-matter

ky — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 05:27:03 +0000

we are particles accelerating into each other
and we don’t know why
you took my hand and kissed my neck
it does not matter that i’ve lied
or what you have not said
your hand on mine now
would be annihilation.

3 questions

ky — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 17:46:03 +0000

Why do you ask about life and killing? I have nothing for which I would live, die, or kill, except grammar.

sucks to be

ky — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 06:23:41 +0000

I am sick to death of sadness.

I wish I could tear this world from out my chest
and then maybe you

I could not travel far enough
the moon shows me her dark side
and turns

It doesn’t matter that you took my hand
and laid your head

I don’t remember

I can’t complete

nonse

ky — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 05:45:33 +0000

August has not been kind to me, Mr. Purcell.
I remember our late night drives, arguing
about the pronunciation of trochee, and who
better expressed the pain of life, Sylvia or Anne -
I still say Anne did it to save face, imitator -
the gypsy asleep in the back.
Under the bridges, on the windy skinny docks,
shouting our poems for no one to hear,
we ripped out our hearts to see if they still beat.
Those were our young days, but I had already lost my youth.
Tell me, Mr. Purcell, with eyes wiser than my soul,
how is it that you feel all we cannot express
and why has it taken me so long to see.

wet streets

ky — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 03:58:39 +0000

precariously i move-
like songs that cut off mid
line, like orators who whisper
for emphasis – between the raindrops,
between the headlights, between
the lips of your next word.
i would shout
if i were to be heard.
i would lose
if i could find you.
i would wait
if only you asked me to.

enter title here

ky — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 15:32:15 +0000

your poems are sad, she said.
i am sad.
it’s like you’ve poured your sadness into them, she said.
i have, i answered.
they are beautiful, she said.
they are sad.
i love your sad poems, she said.
they are beautiful and sad.
if you were happy, you would write happy poems, she said.
if i were happy, i would not write beautiful poems.

green light

ky — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 15:27:49 +0000

so much.

i found on the ripened pear,
emblems of youth

you stood before me
dripping
arms toward the sky
your head flung back

and i laughed.

you asked me
if i wanted to go
with you.

i answered,

dear holden

ky — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 15:21:59 +0000

you were wrong.
books will ruin you too.

life

ky — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 21:38:09 +0000

I’ll find a man. We’ll get a house.
With a pool. And a dog. Have a kid. Small talk
with neighbors.
       How are your tulip bulbs this year?
       My, how Sally has grown.
I’ll get a job. At the local elementary school.
Teach them animals sounds. What to add. How to subtract.
       Eight plus what equals 11? What is missing?
       Twenty minus what equals 5. What was taken away?
I’ll get a car. Drive to Whole Food. Greek yogurt on sale this week. Organic lettuce. Pesticide free.
Have barbecues. Make mild complaints.
       Oh, you know, getting by.
       But oh, this rash!
I’ll wear an apron when I cook. Your favorite dish.
       Kiss the Cook.
       World’s Greatest Mom.
       Don’t Mess with the Chef.
I’ll travel the same paths. Watch the orange tree grow. Complain about the price of gas. The politician’s indiscretions. I’ll dye my graying hair. Pack up the kids to visit my mom. Make a feast for the holidays.
       Your turkey last year was by far your best.
I’ll grow old in this town. I’ll die in this town.
       What was missing?
       What was taken away?