Saturday, September 16, 2006


When you sleep
sleep becomes you.
Blades of grass
stick to your belly.
I could swallow you
as a stream of gas ripples
over oranges
and bursts into flames.
See your finger tip
bleed red sugar?
See that onion
turn into a mint?
stuff the candied
ginger slice
in an album
of early pangs
late hums
and cool runnings.
The sleeper's
slow hand soothes
these rigid days.
I’ll be here
when you get back.


Blogger Daniel Nester said...

Where's the caption contest?

7:47 PM  
Blogger Todd Colby said...

Fire away! Oh Daniel share the captions! And the love!

7:48 AM  
Blogger Daniel Nester said...

OK, here's a couple.

"Pull my finger."
"It's OK. I'll clean up Jim Behrle's ejaculate after he leaves. And he will leave."
"Just keep smiling, and Mark Doty will just keep walking by us, honey."
"Wanna play 'Hide the Ginger Slice?'"
"This is not my old Member's Only Jacket, honey. There's no epaulets, for starters."

10:55 AM  
Blogger frankcolby said...

I sleep with an octopus breathing fresh ocean spray into my soul. My nose reaks of salt.

10:51 AM  

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