JoePoetry

Exit 22

Maybe I’ll come home and paint you a painting

Or put a hole in the wall...  

 

Why We Fly

sometimes I wake to find you sleeping
your breath keeping cadence with mine
sometimes you move without knowing the air flow
or where the pillow is

sometimes I see
the slick notion in your smile
your blink
your wink
what you really think

sometimes I wake to find you staring at me
that great grin
that short sigh
then we begin, then we begin

sometimes you ask nothing of me
and that is why we fly
and that is why we dream..........

sometimes
that is all we need

sometimes

 

 

on his way to "it"

cold this morning
vacant stare into nowhere
silent dust settles and reforms leaving oportunity to write love
notes in the white particles ice on roof top demanding innocence and
some form of respect that freak of nature this stumble this waking
up with less than ever he volunteered too much of himself then not
enough and did not remember to stuff the envelope of love with his
own sincere reflection but that detection of grand politic expanding
the nature of the eye and the beholder "what is it, this?" she said
to him from another room another place another time another emotion
what is it, this?

all he could do was wiggle
and adjust the mirror in the car on his way to work on his way to
"it"

 

the retreat of reptiles at dawn

she says it doesn’t always work out and that she wants
less from the Romans less from the Greeks and after each
flogging and eyeballing I know how she feels

I look to see if she is there in the shadows
near the exits coughing up something contagious
she says that I am kind for once but wonders
aloud if it’s really worth it because
it doesn’t always work out

she says she knows about the ghost inside her
the fanatic beside her and that she wants less
from the Babylonians less from the Philistines
less Freudian soul searching

she calls me a bad bohemian
a second generation comedian with self destructive tendencies
she says I love her too much 

she says I love her too much