Two.

I'm tired. Long day. And yesterday was long because my university had a lock down, and I got trapped in library basement. Yeah. So, poem number one (because I obviously didn't get to it yesterday.)

The Library Basement - for April 8, 2013

You are fictitious but neatly stacked

side by side, up and down,

as real as anything ever organized.

Your people are my people

and I am welcome, I am comforted,

pressed between the dusty rows

of adventure after adventure. 

In the middle of the alphabet

or a strangely-constructed system

I am at home and you are at home

and without each other we barely exist.

~

This second poem is written as a suggestion from a friend. Yes, I am taking suggestions! Let me know if you have a marvelous idea (or less-than-marvelous, those will also be considered.) This is about the few moments of being awake right after a dream.

Splotch - for April 9, 2013

Sometimes in bleaker moments of night

I toss from cloud to cloud like

a blackened splotch of thunderstorm.

I am nebulous but nightmarish and

I am not welcome here.

And so I drift, down,

from the lofty space where hurt is born

and I rumble away from the beginning

of distance and petulance and disturbance

and cautiously I fade

in color and constitution

until I am lightness

and carelessly I float

until I am warmth.

And I remember

every morning--

for the briefest second of lucidity

--the feeling of wind surrounding my body

and the sun warming my youthful limbs,

and all the peace a spirit can muster

being compacted into the seemingly finite container

of my soul.