dream disasters

Corner 2

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april 24th, 2011,
the night i finally lost it.

two a.m. found me flat on my back, both arms raised and gripping one of the empty frames that hang above our bed.

it was clearly important to me that this frame no longer hang on the wall, but hover above my sleepy face, all four corners threatening to do serious damage to a just-roused luke.

my orders in the darkness: “open it,” “where is it?” and “try!”

at daybreak, with no recollection of this disaster, i found a frame at my feet and confusion in my coffee.

if anyone knows what lives on the other side of this dream frame, or perhaps how i can address this need wake-side and stop hurling corners in the darkness, i’d be ever so grateful.

if it happens again, we may be in the market for for some helmets.

kitchen poetry

i watch the kettle for boiling and the sun carry dust in its beams.

nothing’s ever really clean in the brightness.

yet even a vaguely tidy kitchen lends its freshness to my spirit.

order asserts herself as the chaos begins to bubble.

i close my eyes & await the whistle:

whatever comes pouring out, i sip with joy.

for this home rewards rest; this kitchen turns mayhem to mist.

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