|synaptic disunion|

Thursday, May 03, 2007

anthropomorphologistics...

...head full of feathers dancing like pillows blowing in the wind I dream of sleep. I drive with the other monkeys in their metal boxes over the smooth black river through what is left of the untamed wilderness as I look up at the cotton ball clouds of morning. Coffee calls.

I love the coo of his voice in the middle of the night, as he nurses. Warm and comforting is the sound of this activity. Softness is his face, darkness is his hair and eyes, and the dishes aren't getting done, and the baskets of laundry pile high in the living room as the cool air of morning hits my face and I stray again on that path toward making the green.

Eyes burn, dishes wait, sleep calls, love abides. Routine interrupted, slowly returns, slowly alters, changes, modifies, colors our world in new, augments our relationships in unknown ways. The scratchy old black rocking chair is my home at 2am, sleeping with a warm body on my chest, newly full from the warmth of his mother, but not quite ready to return to slumber. We rock, then we slow down, then we lay back together and sleep. We sleep till morning light...

Labels: baby

: toadman : at Thursday, May 03, 2007 |