Bite More / Taste Less -------> (Ramblings)

Ramblings of a alleged realist, supposed poet, and apparently ambitious something-or-other.

6:00 A.M.

I still cannot sleep

as I sit between floors

of black fire

quiet, still.

My clock is marching across the wall

like the moon

its tick tock teeth

chewing on eternity

smacking its infinite lips.

I am hungry now

I cut a slice out of the moon

and put it on a plate

place it on my bed.

My legs are mired in sheets

rolling like waves across my stomach

my slice of the moon floating

alone and glowing

stranded out at sea.

I herald the orange blinds

the color of eyelids

the neural flood of morning.

It pries it’s skinny arms through the window

patiently strokes my head.

I am still carrying Colossus

In my own arms across

my eyelids, back and


back and forth

no place to set him down.

I forget that I have not slept

and rise to eat my breakfast

the last slice

of the moon.