Tracking the terror back
a tumble start – tiptoeing through the dusky morning
tongue tied and exhausted
For a fraction of a second wondering if
perhaps
these ominous dreams are somehow carefully cloaked honesty
Brushing revelation followed by
catastrophic relief –
it was a mere mixture of someone else’s nightmare.
5.7.09
JMG
A night of paralyzing dreams
- the dreams of the dead –
arms flailing helplessly to break through
it is only me here
morning toes – the dream realms slipping
what was it, again? The thing that mesmerized me?
repeat, but not so swiftly.
it is only I that’s awake.
5.5.09
JMG
Anxious dreams
waking frustrations translated by
ill fitting footwear and slacks
an increasing inability to create pleasing pairs
a throb – an ache
the indication of an impending low
perhaps reaching the level of no return
no more good mornings, no more pleasant afternoons
this blameless condition
- lacking all sense of upheaval -
has paralyzed me
stealing the last traces of hope.
JMG
4.22.09
dreams peppered with masked men
caustic happenings.
in my half-asleep condition I am spinning in circles –
hair cutting patterns in my face.
JMG
4.14.09
recesses –
I am plummeting casually.
Mind warped and desires jaded:
what interests me is what led us both astray.
Your thick fingers wrapping a noose around me –
this sense of creativity looming
mourning days, a haggard weeping
we both know what I’ve been seeking.
here: my palm stretched out to you
another offering for your box of treasures
flip the reasoning –
there is nothing left of me to give.
JMG
4.13.09
More often than not I am
catastrophe careening toward oblivion –
suffocating and sensing myself drifting away
particle by particle.
In an attempt to stop
the surrender I occasionally put a little effort in.
One step following the other,
occasionally I am awake and myself enough to put on the separate face –
the one I wear when I am most aware of you.
In my head / in my dreams
I am
shards
of glass
falling
angrily from the threshold of being.
Tumbling point over point toward everything I hate the most
and the state of being I most envy.
Often, it is the stillness that most frightens me. That and
the aching perception that perhaps I haven’t reached the level I hoped I’d reach.
Instead trembling close to the wire,
close to the nest of good enough dreams while the ache in my fingers
just keeps aching.
JMG
12.1.2008
*Note: I am not pleased the the formatting in WordPress. The original version came off much, much better.
Stacks layered on stacks
these boxes won’t fill themselves
coffee first, then that.
11.22.2008
JMG
high pitched morning squeal
three squeaking twists of the upstairs faucet
sloshing water and the distant buzz of our unknown neighbor’s alarm
reminding myself of the temporariness of it all
does not ease the restlessness nor the pounding down the stairs nor
the stomps around the room when we are speak in normal tones
each of us are on the losing end of whatever battle is being fought
11.19.2008
JMG
subtly close to as it stands now
drifting silently
someone must be available to keep the peace,
offer up
a tidbit of longing,
provide some sort of release
scorched from all this senseless bickering
feeling less and less thankful by the day.
11.18.2008
autumnal relief
a momentous occasion
everyone loves pie
11.18.2008
JMG
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