It’s interesting
At the sidewalk crossing
the’Don’t Walk’sign comes on
and the green light switches on the otherside.
The man besides me stops,
turns around,
walks back to the button for the crosswalk,
and starts pushing it.
Repeatedly.
As if the light will just suddenly turn back to red
and the sign would turn to ‘Walk.’
I wonder what God he believes in.
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Dream3nov17
Had been walking around the neighborhood
For awhile,
Lupa was with me.
We went by brad’s house
And had a thought.
Talked awhile.
And then went back out,
Walking the streets again.
Lupa stopped
and paid her federal taxes in the bushes.
My favorite place for her to do so.
Cause I didn’t have to bag it.
Then we went home.
When I opened up the door to my house.
The main room, ie. The living room,
Was my studio.
There were canvasesall around .
And I started on a painting.
On the this canvas
that was like my libray chair,
That was a chair,
But if you folded it in a way it became a ladder.
Although it had a lot mlre hinges and
And appearances.
And a lot more space to paint on.
So when you move it about.
The image that I had painted on it
became different things.
There was a knock on the door,
And the woman
Who was in the dream a couple of nights ago
Was standing in the doorway,
When I opened it.
She had come by to remind me on our date tonight.
dream 1nov17
I am with brad,
somewhere on a river.
and I’m telling him about this woman I like
he smiles and says
“but you’re too shy to tell her
aren’t you.”
“no,” I reply.
just don’t know if she feels the same way.”
“yeah, that is the definition of shy.”
Just then,
she walks up.
she has long black hair.
I say hi,
and start to do something.
can’t remember what it was.
but brad calls her over.
and starts talking to her.
and then she comes back over to me.
and asks where should go out to eat.
then I wake up.
The Walking House
The trees whisper to me,
as we walk passed ‘em.
We hike along the tree line
your hand intermingles with mine, We kiss.
“Come on,” I motion you to the woods.
“This is my walking house.
It’s a sacred place.
a place of memories,
of love, hope and of faith.”
I introduce you to each tree.
as we stroll down the path
under the canopy of leaves.
I need the trees,
these proud silent majestic beasts,
hanging over my soul.
As I lie under their branches,
scribbling in my notebook,
they acquaint me with the life
which passes beneath.
posters of poems and paintings
This is something new for me,
well in away.
when I was in Athens
I’d get out of the clubs or bars
depending on the night.
and who was playing.
and go to Kinko’s
where I had friends who worked the late night shift;
and I’d help them;
and they’d let me work on the computers.
I’d work on my poetry,
make books,
and posters.
than around sunrise,
I’d walk home to my house,
and leave posters of the work I did
on the doors of my friends
as I walked past their houses.
Sometimes,
I’d take the long way home,
by walking through Campus
and leave posters of poems and drawings
on the bulletin boards.
Well this I guess is just another way
to leave posters of my poems and paintings
along the streets and roads
of the internet.
Smyon-Pa 