hopeless afternoon

(mrseliotbooks.blogspot.com)


how rude of my memory
to flash such a picture
before me,
as i'm trying to fall to sleep,
as the sun tries to sneak in
through the cracks in the blinds.
how rude of her, too!

leave me be, please.
i'm trying to fall fast away,
you see,
i'm too weak to run
but my mind can go
wherever it wants, still,
possibilities sweet
that save me from this
hopeless afternoon.

and how rude of my memory
to flash the silhouette
of his face!
i am a pitiful case
on the couch on my side
in cotton and envy,
in pursuit of escape.
just a moment, escape!
i suppose i will just have to let
the sun pour in as she begs me so.

the saga of trudy

coy
her hair hangs straight from the well water
she would tell you her favorite color
but she doesn't know it anymore

she dangles in between
the familiar and unseen
and she holds the secrets
of a hundred guilty men.

uneasy
whispering to her past midnight
oh, what a savior just might
pull her from this lovelessness.

they love her for her
sweet words, and her demure
face that looks into them
and they see a village harlot.

vagabond
how she longs for home
in a place and time, for home
in a man that won't erase her.

she dangles in between
the familiar and unseen
and she holds the secrets
of a hundred guilty men.

jump child, jump!

you're living a life
i am glad
i don't live.
you shove it in our faces
like a mincemeat pie,
singing
"jealous? jealous?
don't you want this?
oh, how i'm cryptic!
and you're so far behind!"

i'm just as bad as you,
and i know it,

because i have to make mention of this.
you make me think i am lesser
'cause i get nervous
round the kegger
and i want to prove that i am
just as
just as romantic as you!
and i contemplate genius things too!
and God and I sip tea at His table, right,
but i don't know how to cover it with
quippy lines
at just the right time

to solidify my outstanding right withstanding,
standing right next to you.

what kind of flaming hoop is that,
red with mistrust and striped?
the audience jests with my name on their lips,
singing
"jump child, jump!"
but i can't be honest and be a
master game player at the same time.
can you?
i'm no good at smoke and mirrors
at organic american spirits
and mirroring my neighbor.

i'm a selfish little thing
and i just want to be seen.
i cannot deny this.
but i want to see you too
don't you see?
no one really likes mincemeat anyway.

keep the door open

keep the door open
let the day seep in
chilling our boney toes.

and we fill our bellies
with blessings of this hour
water rings soaking into the table.

bare feet on linoleum
shuffling sounds in the kitchen
time is passing slow.

the golden sun caught in your hair
i watch you dance in the day
i don't know what to say to you.

keep the door open.
i think you're really beautiful
when you don't do anything at all.