micropoetry – Page 2

rieving/

wind in my head
sings old songs
from the rieving days

words are not words --
they are knives
that fillet me
with each fumbled blade
i possess

forcing myself
up from slumber
i often wonder why
waking seems so
damned important

many dismiss dreams
as unreality
but dreams are
otherside reality
look!
look!

punish me with kisses
taste me
wash over me, an ocean wave

answers can be discovered
in the dragonfly sunning
before the twilight feast

fear
piercing
ice
pins
through
my
gut

waiting these
aeon hours
for --

soul weary
bone tired
i wish i could slough
the skin of me &
find me anew

wind kissed water
fish jumping at mosquitoes
& the sun burning low

music, words
both escape my grasp
today
stare at wall