Lights When I drive home on dusky roads, I look up to see the stars that mirror city lights. When I am free of gravity, I float in dreams above the streetlights, headlights, store lights twinkling in the night. Consider this: awake, asleep, I am one light in motion through the galaxy.
published in MasticadoresUSA:
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Birth Name
I was born a fiction,
a death, a hardship,
a drowning, cholera,
thunder, hail, rain.
No wonder I catastrophize.
I’m a dream, as well.
Each day, two suns wake me.
A warm hearth and hot coals.
I survive with an umbrella
and ibuprofen. At times,
life support.
Like hot coffee and chocolate.
I rebirth with dark coffee
and darker chocolate
I cradle in front
of a hot-coal
hearth every morning.
Each new self
should have a new name.
Wow, that’s lots
of names to remember.
Does each new sun
have a name?
All the billions of suns.
All the billions of us.
Do mothers hear the sun
whisper our names?
Is the sun the keeper
of self?
written by Barbara Leonhard (italicized text) and me, included in our book "Too Much Fun to Be Legal"
published in MasticadoresUSA:
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Glazed
Your eyes are glazed donuts,
pricked by thistles of thoughts
that haunt your dreams years later.
I’ve no bacon to go with my eggs.
I don’t eat bacon.
It would be haunting to eat piglets.
At least no living thing dies
when we eat glazed donuts—just dreams.
How many calories in dreams?
Nom, nom, nom.
I jog ten miles per hour,
fiercely pounding the pavement
in my sleep.
I run with a donut in one hand and
a calorie counter in the other.
written by Melissa Lemay, Barbara Leonhard and me
published in Hotel by Masticadores:
reblogged in:
So interesting...the first, un merveille...! As we say, can't quite get the English word...a bright pearl...2nd I see how the collaboration works, seamlessly, brings in different tone, angle, third, back down to earth with a bang...