chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things

Tag Archives: sleep

found poem: We don’t sleep

found poem: shellacked

found poem: the architecture

found poem: flawed

found poem: Nothing

found poem: memory

found poem: map

found poem: shellacked

found poem: exploring

found poem: dressed

found poem: the moment

some nights

DAK self 1983In her last few years, my mother began falling out of bed, as if the compass of her dreams spun her wildly, the roadmap of sleep littered with boulders and quicksand. Perhaps the insult of the fall drove it from her memory, but she never reported fear or chases in these nights, simply that she would find herself cold and alone and confused on the carpet. Within hours her thin arms would bloom with bruises, not painful, she said, but terrifying in their sudden purple tint. This didn’t happen often, but enough that we eventually put a rail at the bedside, a fence to keep her safe in the pasture of sleep.
. . . . .
DAK self portrait, 1983

found poem: lance


my sleeping…


a jumble…

as stars…


chivesFor her, waking clicks once, Off to On, asleep to alert, dreams wisping away.

For him, the morning comes on like an ache, a low throb that weights him into the burrow of bedcovers. The gravity of sleep pulls him back, a seduction. Each part of his body seems to return from a far uncharted journey. A diorama of dreams glows under the slow lamp of his attention.

Meeting at that curving intersection, along the quiet contour of warm skin, they linger, listen, laugh.

fragments…Howard ~ 7

Morning scratched around his head, looking for purchase. But he was slippery with sleep, heavy with the blanket of somnolence, shielded by the darkness within his closed eyes, and morning could find no way in. Birds announced. A few drops of rain tapped on the skylight. Dreams darted unnoticed. He sank deeper into the hammock of night and slept undisturbed.

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