Wednesday, October 8, 2008

day 8

Get It Down; 31 for 21


my daughter's legs
fill with cement when she wishes,
except if i carry her
but this, we all know

streets become mountains
rivers uncrossable,
sidewalks filled with alligators
wherever we go

logic is hidden
the pattern unknown-
but movement comes
like magic dust
and the disasters reflow

then phone booths
become treasure islands,
bridges are crossed with ease,
her babbling spills out
with strangers and trees

then i can hardly stop her
not that i might-
her longing to buy bread
could fill up the night

thank god that i waited
patiently breathed,
while cement became water
splashing the leaves


cortina said...

i love your poems. they make me what to cry. as cliche as it is, the words really speak to me. thank you for sharing. your photography is fantastic as well.

Lindsay said...

me too.. x