ben laughs in his sleep*

and his lips stretch
over gums and nascent teeth
what does he see?

by day his black eyes probe
and scrutinize
his brow furrows
he is will and force
and a personality that cannot be contained

but when he sleeps he laughs
and gurgles into his mother's shoulder

what movies play inside his eyelids
what pictures provoke him to glee?

or does he laugh because he knows it all
and he's not going to tell us?

---

*Poet's note: He also laughs when he farts. He is, after all, related to me.

Future Tense

This morning I awoke early in my bed

My ever-vigilant alarm was set to erupt

Forty-five minutes ticking down

The clouds were having an early morning party

Toasting to the humidity, no doubt

The first real time they had done so this summer

The rain poured down and all I could do was smile

Wide awake, grateful for the moment

Serenity only maintained briefly

Perhaps five minutes

At most ten

And soon I started to drift away

The reliable alarm on my phone danced in my head

I could no longer relax while I counted the minutes

Dreading the siren, awaiting what was to come

Last week I had the distinct honor of watching my niece

She warms my heart like the sun only dreams it could

I stretch smiles for hours after being with her

She makes me want to love like I only have one day to live

I dwelled in those moments with her, just the two of us

I tunneled away from the thoughts of past mistakes

Of adventures and heartbreaks to come

We ran through sprinklers while screaming

We battled with her Transformers toys

We watched Cars for the fifteenth time, reciting all the lines

She fell asleep twenty minutes before her parents came home

I kissed her forehead goodnight while I tucked her in

The rest of the week?

Instead of taking those lessons my niece had taught me

I worried about graduate school

I pondered over and over about the research I was working on

I did not taste food that week, so anxious for Fall Semester

I drove mindlessly as I thought of having to write this poem

My surroundings failed to register while I biked and walked

I was not conscious of the conversations I held

So lost inside my head and what I thought would happen tomorrow

Could happen

Never will happen

We spend hours upon hours daydreaming of the future

We adore it more than our partners

Dedicate more time to it than our families and our friends

More in love with future promises than our own lives

I wrote a letter to the Future

All it said was:

Fuck You,

Sincerely,

Alex

P.S. I am in the process of getting a restraining order

Are There Hippies in the Desert?

Minnesota weeps as I leave treadmarks on her back.
Crossing the border,
Double-crossed for a Southwestern lover.

My heart is heavy but I've been here too long.

The road is waving wildly
and I'm adrift on the limber asphalt
as it roils and turns on its endless
headlong journey to
anywhere.

I've seen twenty-
six snowy Novembers
but--
dammit--
this time I'll eat tofurkey in eighty
degrees.

I've spent almost ten
thousand nights
dreaming of lush African hills,
steaming islands of the Caribbean,
buzzing lights of NYC,
and most recently--
the spiky, alien mountains of Arizona--

My world could be limitless.
But there are risks, too:
John McCain could be my neighbor.

I could get mighty sick of cacti.

I could be the only ass in a sea of
red elephants,
thirsty for hippie blood.

A kamikaze believer in liberal thought,
the rattlesnakes could eat me alive.

But...

But.

No buts.

I will do this.

Will wake up to the desert,
see the sun in wintertime.

Will display Obama bumper stickers
on my three-ring binders
with pride
(and will ignore the jeers).

Will somehow meld myself into
the life that I crave.
A life that sparks and spins on its own,
where I am only a passenger in the
glorious
crazy
mess--
a life that is real.

Real.

For now...

New Month, New Theme

When you think of THE FUTURE, what comes to mind? For many of us here at Terrible Poetry for Terrible People, the future brings an overwhelming theme of uncertainty, questions, unanswered thoughts, themes, prayers, etc. What is the future, and what do you think it holds? What do you want it to hold? Why is it important? It's your vote and your words. THE FUTURE is yours, and yours alone. On your mark, get set, WRITE.

Time for a little group effort poetry

The future is in the eye of the beholder
But do the blind understand a different, secret truth?
Making a mockery of the concept of disability...
Piss me off and see me blow
I would rather be taken
Away on that eastern wind
I hear we're a lot of
Coughing and running
Moses what could it
Be? The wine, garlic
And beer has some feeling
Glow and slow but others
Full of glee with a hint
Of mystique. When
Water rains down
From the sky
Some spirits fly
Higher than
Kites.