manger of paper

manger of paper                            January 29, 2016
my house is becoming a trough
so packed with words that books spill
across the stable floor making a bed
of paper hay. no wonder my head
throbs with the pace of heart ache
sleeping in a stall where silent poetry
clings to the walls and collections
of scriptures are both pillow and blanket.

i eat these texts like the animals
i am. i will be what i will be.
this morning a humming bird sipping
at a red salvia rich with water
poem and swimming lessons.

soon a rabbit re-chewing her vegetables
to find the rest of the vitamins
in essays on the codes of pictures
and the connotations of comics.

on lazy days a bear in a berry thicket
gobbling fast fiction in the sun’s
ripe glow before the first frost.

in the evening a cat teasing the mice
and tenderizing their bones before
supper. the chase is the cooking, the chopping
of onions, for a cat-soup of memorizing
mathew mark john and luke.

january’s fodder is damp and stale.
i nibble the used books and wait
for soon spring will come and new
novels will be brought on the mail truck
of tender young grass and sprouting
fresh spinach and rhubarb stalks
dripping vitamin c. they will be
cooked with sugar and written with
pancakes on my plate.

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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1 Response to manger of paper

  1. Pingback: manger of paper, take 2 | the liminal life of m

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