When I crawled through the fire of you
I found you sleeping with lions and tigers
cuddling and loving and burning them to ashes.
Swallow the moonbeam
that reflects off the rain
falling on the lake of your famished eyes.
What I missed the day I was absent from third grade:
I missed electing the pet hamster class president.
I missed the lovely wind that blew our teacher, Miss Delmonico, out of the classroom and into the county jail.
I missed the principal’s hot fudge sundae dream.
I missed learning that 2 + 2 doesn’t have to equal 4, if you don’t want it to.
I missed homework from the cloud that was our substitute teacher for the day, and who taught the rest of the class how to float in the sky with no cares or fears.
I missed learning that nouns can be verbs and verbs can be nouns if they truly desire it.
I missed learning how to write my own epitaph.
I missed the first day of forever.
(modeled on a theme by Brad Aaron Modlin)
Trickle through pine needles
up to the ignorance of clouds
where you will feel safe.
Beware the wisdom of tree trunks,
the confidence of their swagger,
the melancholy tilt of their branches.
High up in the air
no one can reach you
while you rest on clouds
and laugh at trees.
R. Bremner of Glen Ridge via Lyndhurst, New Jersey (where William Carlos Williams rests in peace), USA, writes of incense, peppermints, and the color of time in such venues as International Poetry Review, Anthem: a Leonard Cohen Tribute Anthology, Climate of Change: Sigmund Freud in Poetry, Quarterday, Paterson Literary Review, Oleander Review, Journal of Formal Poetry, etc., etc. Ron invites you to visit his Instagram poetry at beat_poet1 and Absurdist_poet.