Category: Poems (page 35 of 73)

I’m eating your voice like it’s sugar and it
is: raw brown sugar on a spoon. The phone is
a spoon. Your voice is inside the phone. I’m
inside your rainbows, ice. I hear beeps (the
time runs out and we’re disconnecting again.
Outside the weather reporter runs around on
cloud nine because here’s another sunny day!
I told you so. Translation engine, re-kindle
these lonely spoons! I’m a hurried shower or
a missed train. Some things remain constant:
freckles, sunshine and coffee. Others start
to blur: time differences, texts and dreams,
expressing new beginnings, small bird calls.

Nobody knows. Nobody knows what it means.
Jippie! We can speak freely here. Speak.
I’ll send you desires in the mail. We’ll
end up somewhere between the stars. It’s
making me crazy. It’s beyond real. Smile.
The world’s a mirror. You look good in it.
My dreams explode. No wonder. In the dark,
no one can see us. Nobody can hear these
voices. Purr. Whisper. Dial tone. Quiet.
There’s a spiral. There’s the staircase.
Running down snow-bound streets. Walking.
Swimming. Listening to special playlists.
Together, the same. Bam. I’m the bouncer
outside the door. And you? You’re my VIP.

Her toenail polish is chipped and I love it.
She’s doing that crazy dance and it’s cool.
I’m feeling dizzy, not sure if she’s real.
But she is and she’s crazy and yes so am I.
I mean, a little bit crazy. Not real crazy.
Just a look in her eyes, wind in my throat.
I didn’t learn how to hang the tea towels.
I’m happy for her to teach me these things.
I’ll teach her just how to be really crazy.
We’ll get crazy, even if it’s just a little.
She calls me monkey-tail and other things.
These words will become my new dictionary.
That’s also a little bit crazy but so are we.
I can’t speak anymore, but I can still hum.

I follow the story-lines of your hair
in photographs. Tracing the sources of
stream tendrils. Making my way back to
the original kiss. Asking the universe
to contract. Let’s reserve a table in
a future restaurant. An advertisement
in a foreign place. Paperweight heart.
Your lessons in film-making, driving.
Navigation being the hardest part. We
could animate our own dreams. Powers
swirling in our star charts. I follow
the newspapers each Friday afternoon.
They lead me to a place where love is
a large explosion. I’m feeling lucky.