Wednesday, March 14, 2012     Break  fast



But the words ran together

Leaving him without their meaning

Or intent.”

The Hunched Man,   stan smith



“Brake fast”, the driving instructor said,

Leaning forward, his head blocking

The side view mirror,

“You have to learn to hit the the brake right away

If you see an accident about to happen.”


“Brake fast,” the coach said,

“When we get the ball off the boards,

You need to brake fast down court.

That’s how you win; brake fast, fast, fast.


In his dream each night

She brought him hot cereal,

In a bowl, blue fragmented porcelain,

LIke a puzzle

Newly re-configured into functionality.


“The sun is rising,” she smiled,

“ He is rising, it’s been three days.

Take, eat, the dark night of fasting is over,

The day waits for you to shape it as you will.”


The wounds

Word washed away

Melted back into his flesh.

Drifting now, as with the receding tide,

He left the bed

That had become his home,

And sleep stumbled towards the kitchen.

One comment

  1. Breakfast, new poem, branch off of The Hunched Man, can be read on my blog at

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