feeling the innocense

and the poem in question



jonathan, do you know who loves you..me.

the north meadows

I scare children, pretending I am a witch
sticks find my hand, marriage
seeing night, my pair of widowed eyes find I am
spitting salt water at a block of ice.
I said "A park in the middle feels good."
sorry hands on my breast only sense
snare dusk ears and a bench.

dream house

pink light parading as blue
the floor is fit and fiber
my friend sits in the pulses
our eye is searching inside our head for the machine
that it seems we are in.
tilt it this way, we are in a truck
move it back and here we are,
in the belly of a ship going down.
the noise isn't anything like we've
known to be beautiful,
but on these pillows
we find ourselves falling asleep.