Wednesday, July 22, 2009

little red box

my joy is a little red box
with nothing inside that lasts

it fills and empties
it gets accidently run through the wash
and comes out soggy
in the pocket of my favorite jeans.

my joy has a handful of sugar
and a handful of salt
when you wave at me
one hand opens
spreading grains into the wind

it finds its way to the garden
it finds its way to the table
when i laugh one palm is ready
when i cry the other palm contains.

my joy has wings and can breath under water
especially when i'm sleeping
and when i dance

sometimes it flops around on dry land
gasping and choking on air
sometimes it lands with a thud after take off
mostly though it swims and soars like nothing
but bright light on a smooth lake.

my joy is a little red box
always filled with maybe

it swells and recedes
breaking boundaries
that i don't see
in the stairways of days
going upward towards the attic of night.


  1. again, the art and the poem are so wonderful, together and apart.
    when did you write this?

  2. written recently, during a bout if insomnia.
    remember those drawings we used to make together?

  3. beautiful! i love it.