February 24, 2011 § 1 Comment

Last night I dreamt
we turned mannequins into real people
by making love to them
and sunlight burned
a hole on the back of your neck
but you didn’t really mind,
because if a song plays in the middle of an empty forest,
would it really matter if it was
jazz or country or electro-dance-punk-pop?
The world has no patience for stupid questions.

Self-esteem is a fragile thing,
yet we continue to make bouquets out of flowers
and mountains of molehills. You say to me,
always mountains—

but the problem with science
is that no one understands
how a scrap of wood can be an embrace
in the right light,
and how a pair of marbles
are as good as real eyes
when no one really bothers
to look


§ One Response to Improvisations

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Improvisations at 365.


%d bloggers like this: