Blueberry Joe
With Karl and a cup’a blueberry joe.
His cigarette smells like a clove.
Sarah Lawrence’s first snow.
The college kids come out in droves.
(Rachel’s dream the night of 2/3)
Bay Breezes
I’ve dreamt of sacrifice and doom:
The flaming calf. My limp body
held up by Matt’s from room to room.
Bay Breezes make me quite tipsy.
(Rachel’s dream the night of 2/2)
Endtimes
He’ll send me to a youthful grave;
my soul and body, he to rend.
How sad! I run from this rough knave
when world whole is at its end.
(Sean’s dream the night of 2/2)
Tattoo
A calf, a horoscope, in flames,
tattooed upon my lonely neck.
I hide it with my hair, ashamed,
while mom and I converse of dreck.
(Rachel’s dream the night of 2/2)
Bridget
Well, Bridget, no, it isn’t fair;
this evening’s gone straight to my head.
Just put me in that wagon there
and drag me to my lonely bed.
(Sean’s dream the night of 2/1)
Sun
My father paints a red-gold sun
on the calendar’s title, bare
April. His fingers trace the one
circle, then form another there.
(Rachel’s dream the night of 1/29)
Fans
You jump beside the fans, and fly.
(Well, glide. We’re human, after all.)
“Alone,” I think, “I’d reach the sky.
With her, it seems I wouldn’t fall.”
-Sean’s dream the night of 1/28
Dinosaurs
I liked the way it was before,
their rocky graves lie still un-churned.
We don’t go out much anymore,
not since the dinosaurs returned.
-Sean’s dream the night of 1/27
Four Line Dreams
Rachel and Sean have dreams.
If they remember these dreams, sometimes they write short poems about them.
They’ve decided to write these poems in a quatrain of iambic pentameter, rhymed ABAB.
Enjoy. Leave comments.
