Poetry from Blue Fred Press

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Ronald Baatz

THE WIND WANTS TO SLEEP WITH ME

It's a winter day like any other winter day.
It is cold and windy out there and the
wind chimes are being thrashed about.
The most important thing i have to do
is make an early fire, and maintain it until
i climb the stairs around midnight to crawl
into bed. The bedroom faces the road,
the bedroom which i've been sleeping in
for fifteen years now, three years
with one woman, seven with another.
The other five years i've slept alone.
On these cold winter nights the wind
tries to muscle its way into the house,
into the bedroom, into my bed.
The wind wants to sleep with me,
but i don't want to sleep with it.
How can i tell the cold winter wind
that i am not in love with it?

MY DOGS WON'T ALLOW ME TO DREAM
WITHOUT IT

They won't allow me to dream without
my lime-green shirt on

I am to have my lime-green shirt on
in every dream

If i am without it then they wake me
with loud barking

The only place i own this lime-green shirt
is in my dreams

It has long sleeves which i roll up
and i leave the top two buttons open

In every dream i might possibly dream
i am to be in lime-green

Whether it's a good dream in paradise
or a bad dream in hell

My dogs insist i wear my lime-green shirt
and that i smell from freshly cooked pork chops


from ANGEL HEAD #4

t.kilgore splake

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