windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

Category: poem

seen•unseen

the key–just like the one i have to copy but stamped with an ‘M’ on the other side i search the dream for the door–i don’t find it there but under my fingers in the morning

dead pigeon

“spare’ny change, i’m try’na get 35 cent to get myself sump’na eat, to get on the bart, to get down to hayward to see my kids and how are you on this fine day?”

church chimes

i like to sleep in but my eyes get puffy and red and sleepier than if i hadn’t even slept and more wet than if i had wept (just look how they’re seeping) i like to sleep in but my eyes don’t

soaked

bloodriver courses through the bodyland thoughtwind rustles sensetrees. springtime- memoryrain soaks mindflower bulbs. the mindflowers the mindweeds, mindbutterflies, mindthistles

collective consciousness

on the spur of the moment, i went to a restaurant nearby usually quiet, tonight it was packed the guy in the line ahead of me was scratching his head “we just came here on a whim.”