October12, 2009

smiling . . .

a cloud with nothing

better to do

a something

that keeps me from

skipping stones . . .

twatching you wade

through heaven's river

white lilies . . .

singing the language

of water

riding home in

a jeepney through a

dream that

went sour, a text message

chanting bamboo song

listen, owl . . .

the wind mimics

your prayers

you act like

it never happened . . .

her anger

tossing our dreams

out the front door

heavy rain .. . .

a worm seeks higher

ground

a facial

with new age music . . .

the feint song

of people talking with

out-of-tune hammers

brushing leaves . . .

tea dances with remnants

of autumn

nun-like,

she walks with her

head down

cleaning streets in

front of schoolmates

the glimmer

of morning on a

jeepney's tail

she's wants

to let another

man fuck her

so she can have a child

that looks quapo

she speaks to

a bamboo, and becomes

the bamboo

she will stop

at nothing to get

what she wants . . .

a wriggling tialapia

waiting to be filleted

feel the wind . . .

it carries another

man's words

what we want

takes time and coffee...

dreams don't pop

up from paintings, walking

through mute rainbows

ant, could i

have been you in

a past life?

worker ants

carry food to

their queen . . .

not questioning

what's right or wrong

mid-winter . . .

a leaf's shadow plays

catch with a moth

the day's

coming when arched backs

will straighten

and rice fields will be

be tilled by their owners

robert d. wilson

©2009