Wednesday, March 14, 2012 Break fast
But the words ran together
Leaving him without their meaning
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.”
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.