Word Cracking

I crack the world open
each morning
with a chiseled space formed
when my lips part.

It is a sign for you to enter
with curses or kisses...
my only preference
that either one, taste red.

I've grown chapped
forcing moisture in and out like a tide
my tongue fishing around
with no bait
yet expecting dinner...

this parched tongue
having forgotten the feel
of laying brick, building damns
that would hold the waters close
and the sharks at bay.

I am hearing new lessons
resounding with ancient proverbs.
You cannot reel a heart in
if you never cast fear upon a line of words.

I heard her holler "HENRY!!!"
the name flapping wildly,
intermittently soaring with longing,
mired in disappointment.

He smiled at her.
I envied her lips.

They were not dry at all.

The Underside

I chased the sun down
on my way
to what would never be a good idea.

But we tend to race towards the most inevitable collisions
wearing the colors of our last regret.

We've not yet learned
to be the docile companion of our own lessons.
Instead we hold court
and debate the details
while the big picture goes missing.

I chased the sun down
knowing full well it always wins.
I cannot catch it in my cupped hands -
delay the moment it hides
on the underside of the world.
Yet, when the moon recants the darkness
into a new beauty I wish to hold,
mistakes just seem as stars
that light the way.