Terminal

(http://pulpfactor.com/art/1797/death-and-surrealism/)

if there was a payphone

for the other side

it’d sit unassumingly

on a broken city sidewalk

taking numbers,

taking calls,

no takers

 

but I’d shimmy up

grab the receiver like

I’d been expecting

someone,

balance it like

precious crystal

between one ear

and one shoulder,

gifted as a

trapeze artist

 

two deep breaths

a signaled hello

tell me,

I’m cringing

shaping limbs into the

mildest of philosophers

 

is it as

barren

as in

my dreams?

 

the dial tone

answers back

straight shooter

 

this elegant thing

it’s sunrise

it’s terminal

start breathing

stop dreaming

 

 

and very suddenly

(http://susanmaxwellschmidt.com/ophelia/)

on a whim

.            eyes blind

I packed my mind

and s a i l e d

outside   myself

for a day

or two,

a plan

 

only when I

.           came back

very s u d d e n l y

I couldn’t

let

me

in

 

so I

built an army

with my    thoughts

but they

floundered

in the dark

and very s u d d e n l y

I lost my breath

out there

 

for a while

I          screamed at nothingness

then for a while I

swallowed it

 

and after a while

I

got back in

but I

was

out of matches

 

so now I flounder,

.                 only sometimes

until my eyes adjust

until there are

q u i e t

precious  o u t l i n e s

in the dim .