Jessica M. Wilson

 

 

There's a Poet in my Bed

 

There's a Poet in my bed,
he dreams color inverted pyramids
carouseling around his fingertips.
thumb rings and sticky nails --
hands in the honey all the time.

There's a Poet in my bed,
he's verging hallucination,
pulling sand dollars from my pockets.

Poet in my bed
strumming love on his soul...
embers of red
green, yellow
flicker together turning
eyes
toes
into bedside lullabies.

 

~ Jessica M. Wilson
(jac)  (c)2013

 

 

 

 

 

A Song of Consciousness

 

 

i must learn to remember you
when gravity is through with me,
your eyes will pull me in.

i must learn to remember you
golden aura beaming -- plucking at the strays on my neck

i must learn to remember you.

the howls echo in a moment's time
forgiving the empty walls,
hunger of love --
empty.
i must learn to remember you...

till i fade, oldness.
similarity to all and to no one;
they've been discounted.
gods heal to know they're remembered
men heal
to know

they are loved.

and i must learn
to remember
you.


~ Jessica M. Wilson

(c)2013