Humcup and Whistlespoon

Jun 02 2012
The sunrise, for all its show, is for some a phenomenon, beautiful and glorious. For some, it’s a vicious and taunting monster, interloping on our happy sleep. I’ve seen the star from both sides now, from help and hurt. I’m usually not a morning person. I need help to make the most of my time in the earlier hours.
Animus in Prelude c. April 2011Coffeeblood castings surfaceEarthworms rip through trenchesTangleweeds tug at my limbsTwisting ferns rake through my hairAs spikes of foxglove ready a violet strangleThe sun itself is fixing to swallow me upIts incisors cutting through the sweet dream skyGrass wet with venom spitThe vapors rise to sting my eyesRed and yellow seeps through thin skinSweat, the traitor, dares to join with soilMorning is the enemy.Circadian Arrythmia c. April 2008Sleepless night wasting timeI smell air that blows through my open windowMornings bring shadows and silhouettestrees and their inhabitantslovely until I hear the birdstheir dissonant laughtermocking my lazy mistakeI’m no poet, but I need God right now c. November 2007Everything aches but You awaken me gently, finger combing my hair with sunlight through the slats,whispering how Youwill take my pain away.But I still feel it.But I still trust You.But I still need rest.Sing over me, please,with kind morning lullabies. It’s a little too earlyto face the day.

The sunrise, for all its show, is for some a phenomenon, beautiful and glorious. For some, it’s a vicious and taunting monster, interloping on our happy sleep. I’ve seen the star from both sides now, from help and hurt. I’m usually not a morning person. I need help to make the most of my time in the earlier hours.

Animus in Prelude c. April 2011

Coffeeblood castings surface
Earthworms rip through trenches
Tangleweeds tug at my limbs
Twisting ferns rake through my hair
As spikes of foxglove ready a violet strangle
The sun itself is fixing to swallow me up
Its incisors cutting through the sweet dream sky
Grass wet with venom spit
The vapors rise to sting my eyes
Red and yellow seeps through thin skin
Sweat, the traitor, dares to join with soil

Morning is the enemy.

Circadian Arrythmia c. April 2008

Sleepless night
wasting time
I smell air that blows through my open window
Mornings bring shadows and silhouettes
trees and their inhabitants
lovely until I hear the birds
their dissonant laughter
mocking my lazy mistake

I’m no poet, but I need God right now c. November 2007

Everything aches
but You awaken me gently,
finger combing my hair
with sunlight through the slats,
whispering how You
will take my pain away.
But I still feel it.
But I still trust You.

But I still need rest.
Sing over me, please,
with kind morning lullabies.
It’s a little too early
to face the day.

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