Blog Archive

Friday, May 8, 2009

Thoughts At Ceiling Level

Colors, turn turn turn,
I can hear the music
see the notes traveling
across the universe
past constellations
and super novas, to hang
between morphing clouds;
what's your poison?
Inhale, screaming.
Exhale, screaming.
2am sitting on the curb
in front of a 24 hour
convenience store
watching life stagger past
see the stains on its shoes.
Gravel paths swim
in cruel curves, finding
that finding your way home
led you farther astray,
the signs have all been torn down,
a four way stop in double vision.
Hands feel along
from tree to wall to skin,
from skin to hair to cool railing,
blinded by a new sight
thoughts explode and rain down
in words said with no regrets,
no regrets, no regrets.
Destroy the sun with your thumb,
kick up daisies, daffodils
and desperation in a slow motion blur,
falling up that taunting slope
to gaze down from the new moon
howling like a forgotten child.

2 comments:

Linda S. Socha said...

Ah Sarah. Sharing feeling about this one could end up being longer than the poem...so I will spare you that.The journey can be long and not very uplifting....but it is the journey. Powerful and of impact
Linda

ambersun said...

I think I might be the child shouting down from the moon.

I like that image

Amber