SundayEveryday feels like Sunday.Sunday2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
It's overcast and unamusing.
Everything moves slow in my perception.
I'm crying out a silent prayer and no one's there to hear.
Jesus is resting his head on Pluto and
God is swimming through the galaxy.
I could sleep all day.
Sunday's are the worst.
I wanna make a commotion and scream
in the most solemn places- cause a scene, you know?
But lately, everyday feels like Sunday...I just...
I can't shake this lazy, ambivalent feeling.
It's like the world stops moving on Sunday.
I don't know.
I'm tired of Sunday.
All I want is one good Saturday.
When the world is alive,
when it thrives and drives.
I just want more...than this Sunday.
I hate the time. I hate the day.
It's bad when even Monday is better.
EclipseGermination taking place inside an empty space. Reproduction running rampant.Eclipse3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
The Earth kisses the sky in hopes of requited preturbation. Snow falls above the equator.
But below the sun shows its inhabitants no mercy. But right here, I'm stuck.
It's not hot, it's not cold. It's just dark. It's very constant. Quiet.
I hear the Earth cry outside my window, and it makes me want to weep with her.
I know that she's only yearning for the one that keeps evading her grasp.
But he is a surreptitious being, one who holds all of our fates.
He is time itself, and she's running out. She spins to grasp him- but like a hamster in a wheel-
she's just running in circles making it nowhere. His sands bestow upon her ocean waves,
as the full moon hangs overhead like a friend trying to lend a helpful hand.
But the moon is in love with the Earth and she with time. He is frustrated, I can tell.
He's blood orange tonight and I feel a sting in my heart.
I know that he's watching her, reach out for time-