All in a days work

When did I forsake myself
was it in the promise of forever
or in a single moment
yesterday
When did I stop listening
to the pounding beat
in my chest
and
the coursing in my veins
Why can't I make peace
with all my tomorrows
The dance is perfunctory
breathing has become routine
tunnel vision makes all things
gray
How does resolve become
resolution
To drown in mundane and
colorless melancholy
is settling

A. Lamb 4/29/2011

Sideways Spinning

Sideways Spinning

through dark alleys in pale pink polyester
white lined nostril wrangler performing stage left
green mountains spilling over vanilla root beer hills
coffee stained napkins composed with jazz digits
and you light my cigarette; and all stops

click shhhcccckkkkk ahhhhhhhhhh

Tumbling upwards downwards warm mouth outside
green grey morning of peak awareness and discovered love
Angry hateful putrid gold and avocado finger pointing
not bologna for breakfast again you big bear
dream walk into graceful holding waking deciding with actualization
Is he yours? Was he mine? Does he know? Will he care?

I cried

Windy whipping wild red hair, short black up down
little girl tutu big girl heels...look at me, do you see what I can do?
dress over head down to your knees; free
reflections in glass too fleeting to be
white teeth peek through condemned quarters in crooked corners
eyes sparkling dying crying seeing brown and big

A.L.

Rage

I
RISING ABRUPTLY FROM MY PRAYER GARDEN
ENCUMBERED BY YOUR WREATH OF HALF BLAME
WHITE OR WHEAT
YOU SAY
STAY
LOWERING MYSELF DOWN INTO DIRT
BENDING TO MEET THE EARTH TO FIND MY BEGINNING
I AM MET WITH SOLID IMMOVABLE FORCE
I WILL STAY
LAYING STILL IN THE MULCH OF MY MAKING
TRYING NOT TO BE SEEN
CAMOUFLAGED
YOU WALK AROUND AND OVER ME CALLING TO ME
TRIPPING
I HAVE MADE YOU SPILL THE WINE
THE EARTH AROUND ME BECOMES MUD
PUNGENT AND RED WITH THE REMAINS OF BLUDGEONED GRAPES
I
RISING TO MEET YOU IN YOUR FURY
GROWING EVER TOWARDS THE SUN
REACHING TOWARDS YOUR THRUSTING FISTS
I GRASP YOUR SORROW
WE WILL BURY IT IN THE GARDEN
I STAY

A.L.

Observations

There is a piece of his hair that always lingers on his brow. He is constantly brushing it away... its swoop seems unplanned but hits the angle of his forehead just right. It lands and then lifts off just above his eye in a way that makes him look roguish but also distracted. Wet or dry, short or long its there. Is it planned? I don't know. I have never had the courage to ask him. It is like the metaphorical question of him in my mind. It could be a careful cultivation created to appear haphazard but in actuality is meticulously planned or a very lucky cowlick that accidentally makes him more beautiful and naturally intriguing.

A.L. 7/28/11