Nightmares are another thing

the source on tap, finally
pours out hair and butterflies

no solutions no

accusations no

prayers no incriminations

only innuendo

ungovernable hints

like someone forgot to hide
or else they died and got lost out back behind the woodpile near the outhouse
quite next to the clothes line tree

and somehow you fail to seek or
perhaps you set a trap and your mom
she’s putting the laundry out
and it’s only a yellow sock
which belongs to no one
and it rains


BigWhiteBlockMuthaFuckaz

Insomnia

Her insomnia lay about her like so much therapy
inert and hindering
useless and persistent
mocking her to change

Her insomnia hung her down like someone else’s luggage
filling her with bus-boy exasperation

Why should she
hang on to these things?

Her insomnia had a handle on her stomach
ladelling from it her impatience like life
from a bog

She sat up
as she would lie down also
She lay down even as she sat up also

Something like a prison her head lay angry

Something  like a nest long left
in a tree
smiling its grief
through the leaves


IMG_4398BigWhiteBlockMuthaFuckaz

Sick a dancin’

Sick a dancin’
head so sore
what was that headdress I wore?
God knows I was nine years sore when last I swore off dancin’!
And God knows I’m so sick a dancin’!

Had a bellyfull las’ night —
friends say why you gettin’ tight?
I said I’m so sick a dancin’!

Sick a dancin’
face a mess!
How old am I would you guess?
God knows only nine hours less and I guess I’d be dancin’ —
But God knows I’m so sick a dancin’!

Had a belly laugh las night —
man say why you gettin’ tight?
I said I’m so sick a dancin’!

Sick a dancin’
hands so fast!
Who was that sweet thing they’d ask?
God knows I was thrice unmasked when last I swore off dancin’!
And God knows I’m so sick a dancin’!

(c) 1994 Catherine Weaver All rights reserved.


BigWhiteBlockMuthaFuckaz