why i should clean my room more often?

poems i found. cleaning my room. yup. like the descriptions in the first two, but they're not arranged so well. the third one's just... weird... yeah...

. . .

highway

the cars go speeding past
bright and hard like waxed candies
the wolf-growls of the radio singer
are our anthem
the sky melts  into the colors of exotic drinks
laughter drips from our lips
like silver belss and marachino cherries
drunk off sugar, and youth, and car keys
basking in our own divinity

. . .

version i

stone crosses mark my passing
bedecked with hyacinth blossoms and glass beads
i go running into the salty froth
of an undulating mirror
the sea throws my reflection back to the skyk
on empty beaches i erect alters to forgottens faiths
braiding shells and seaweed among beaded flowers
the salt dries on my skin like armor

 
version ii

stone crosses mark my passing
building shrines to forgotten gods
offerings of hyacinth blossoms and glass beads
sand stretches before me
melting into salty froth
the sea is an undulating mirror
throwing the sun back at the sky
frosting my skin with salt
i braid shells and seaweed into my hair
dropping crosses behind me
the sky a blue-gray fading void

. . .

the pendulem swings:
in your lowest moments,
you find a new talent,
and it's always in your highest
that you step up for that award
and trip on the hem of your gown,
ripping out the hem,
and the ambulances rushes the dress away,
leaving you standing in you runderwear
before a very large crowd,
and the days you surse your philosophy books,
you suddenly find yourself in them.

today i learned
that i know how to teach.
i didn't even know
that i understood the lesson.