Some Like It Hot

My regular readers know that I often wake from dreams and turn them into poems. Well, this time I can't come up with a poem about what I dreamt, so I'll just tell about it, like a normal blogger would!

I am not particularly a fan of Marilyn Monroe, though of course, I find her story poignant. I'm not even someone who especially likes blondes, though Beatrice would dispute this. And yet, I dreamt last night that Marilyn Monroe made love to me. (It was, um...spectacular!)

Not only that, but in my dream I didn't have to be the physical equivalent of a (cash for) clunker. I was me, but young and beautiful. Did I mention that this was a really good dream? I did? Are you sure?

After the second time of being made love to by Marilyn, I woke up. I still had four hours to sleep! Life is good.

__________

Dog Days

Hi, I am Bosco! I am Shay's dog! We are having a wonderful weekend! Mommy went out and bought me my busybones, which I get every morning and afternoon! Aunt Rachel started that, so thanks, Auntie Rach! Then we watched the baseball men for an inning until Mom got annoyed with their wet noodle bats, and so she read her book and I guarded her!

Later, Mom got all mushy and insisted on kissing me on my head. I went, "Help! Murder!" because I am a boy and don't go in for all that girly love junk. But I let her kiss me, cos it's my job to make her happy and stuff.

Mommy says that I am the handsomest, smartest, bravest, most wonderful boy ever! Well, DUH, Mom. She sings "My Guy" to me. I like that, even though her are a crappy singer! Me used to have a neat-o sister named Molly. Molly lives in Heaven now. Me needed to stay here and take care of Shay, cos she is all over the place without someone to point her the right direction, which I usually think is the kitchen! I just pretend she is a big two legged sheep and herd her! I love my Mom, and I am glad she is so loony over me, even though she gets all embarrassingly smoochy kissy at times.

I have to go now! Bye everybody!

Love,

Bosco!

The Night School

In the night school,

lessons are available in

English grammar,

vivisection,

and the supernatural.

All classes are self-taught.

Ague,

sex,

and substance abuse of all kinds are strictly prohibited,

if nonetheless ubiquitous.

Come down this hallway.

Leave your little candle with the matron.

Leave everything you hold precious crammed inside your cubby;

the night janitor will get rid of it.

Learn to scream silently.

Learn to live without skin.

Learn poetry.

Learn poetry.

Learn poetry.

Such practices

do not belong above ground

among crowds,

in the commonplace glare of simple respectable daylight.

_______

Ten Dreams

My skin is keen to dream ten dreams--

One for each of your fingers.

I want to count each one

With my heartbeat,

Sweet One of mine.

I feel like a dangled strawberry.

I feel like a clever crime, gotten away with.

I feel like an ocean wave--

Slide into me,

Be moon to my tide.

I feel as if I were a new jar of peanut butter, smooth and

Just begging to be disturbed.

My arms are like the strands of a ribbon untied.

My hair is falling darkly over my right eye,

And my left is looking for trouble.

When you hold anything, I dream of the stems of lilies for weeks.

I am a wet vase.

Quick,

Kiss me now, before the stars move.

Make my bed your garden.

Tend my love with yours through the night.

______

Ooh baby I'm a star!

I got profiled in the current issue of the local whats-going-on-around-town free rag. Woohoo!

Cat And Leaf

Rain

touches the skin of a leaf,

trickles down the stem like finger tips,

or falls like the feeling of a kiss--

and that same rain

in time becomes the leaf,

and faces God again

like this:

They say

a cat may look at a queen,

and so I look at you

even if from the depths of dreams;

and when I do,

I have to touch you with amazed and grateful lips--

in time, we will be together,

but until then,

there is this:

No matter from how far away the rain must come,

it will always find the leaf--

and she will be there waiting in a late afternoon of grace,

the small and shining desirer

of a perfect

and stormy

embrace.

_______

Friday 55: Conundrum

The students gather around the

Zen master. Worldly events and

Passions do not disturb him.

He raises his hand to

No man, and similarly, is

Never controlled by desire for

A woman. He practices non-

Attachment in all things. He

Is splendid and has achieved

A state of bliss. Or,

He is simply comatose. Who

Can say? This is awkward!

________