Saturday, November 30, 2013

Michael Johnsen- A Poem


Millions of tiny lives
Tiny windows
Tiny lives
The currents
The bursting stream
  So minute
He used to be
A glimmer in the stream
Of tiny lives
He looked at them
And was separated

She looked into the horizon
From the obelisk she could see
Millions of tiny lives
She felt a longing
To join them
She saw herself
Like the triangle
In a circle peg

He opened up a beer
Drank to those who read
And those who fucked
Up there
In their tiny bedrooms
With their tiny pillows

She put on a dress
And knew
What it represented
It’s time
It’s fleeting
Like most things
She turned away from

He wondered if anyone
Felt the way he did
That they could meet
Maybe talk
Maybe then he would see
How irrational it was

Tiny lives blurred about the day
Just living
Nothing else
No dreaming
Nothing else
They were really
Going to do this

He grabbed a belt
She tied the rope

Stood up
And dropped down
The little tiny lives
Becoming what they always were
Little tiny puppets

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