Round and round, I am bound
to get dizzy. Sometimes, I feel
like my head is spinning. Brains
possibly missing. Beans possibly
spilling. Like a whirlwind, I spin
round and round, dancing to
the sound of a familiar song
What goes up must come down.
It’s just a circle, not a hurdle.
For the last time, I will jump off
this whirling hamster wheel.
Time to get off the roller-coaster
that makes nothing feel real.
I’m here to make a splash.
I want to create a wave.
Look how calm the water
is. It’s perfectly still, silent.
It’s been like that for years.
Complacency is what comes
to mind. I’m tired of waiting.
I’m looking to jump from
one life to another. I’m here
to make a splash and create
a wave – for Neptune’s sake.
It’s a suburban legend.
Who knows what the
housewife did? Life
must be wild in
the suburbs – away
from others. I heard
the suburbs are
different from the city.
Legend has it, the suburbs
have no legends at all.
Life seems cool and calm
on the outside. Outside
of the city, there are not
legends. There are only
truths – no imagination.
In the suburbs, I heard
no one leaves, but that
is just an urban legend.
Life is life and suburbs
are suburbs. It’s absurd
there are not suburban
legends that I’ve heard.
One, two, three, four.
Wait…five, six, seven.
How could I possibly
count every cloud
I see? There’s no way.
Hundreds of clouds
fill a sky to remind me
to count my blessings.
It is easy to get caught
up and never look up.
It is hard to find time
to count every cloud.
Some days, there is not
a single cloud in the sky.
Most days, that is fine.
I wake up every morning;
I try to count every cloud.
Eight, nine, ten, eleven.
Eleven clouds surround
those who have found
time to shift their focus
away from the ground.
I’ve gone fishing. It seems
I’m the only one here.
The water is calm. The air
is still and is filled
with silence – total peace:
total bliss. I’m blessed to see
life changing. Birds fly free
as leaves drop off trees.
I cast my pole and I wait.
I relax and enjoy a break
away from things that take.
My mind isn’t missing;
it has just gone fishing.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 