TSM 112

waking again with hair sticking up
like antlers,
my COVID doo and don't,
pillow wet where dreamwater
leaked from the corner
of my mouth
 
now the grass-fed belly of clouds
and thinking to gut them –
slice them open with the
knife edge of my palm,
hang them to bleed out
then salt and dry
 
or better my hair
is a field of antennae
scanning for life, where
Heaven plays its Top 10 hits
on the radio telescope 
in my skull




Quickly Now & The Sunday Muse

25 thoughts on “TSM 112

  1. I really like “grass-fed belly of clouds”. So descriptive. As for covid-hair, I gave my husband a haircut last week, and he was pleased with it, but he’s not coming near me with scissors. And for goodness sake, he just order hedge trimmers on Amazon, claiming it’s for the laurel bush.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Have you been to the Very Large Array of radio telescopes in New Mexico? Your poem reminds me of them — they are in the middle of nowhere and well worth the drive. I’m with Misky about the “grass-fed belly of clouds” — great descriptive phrase. Hope your barber opens soon…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I’ve got an old vet neighbor who is used to going to the barber when he wants (not always when needed… which is OK too)… months have now gone by… and he’s looking like an elf…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Right in the action aren’t we. Also, we both hit on the antenna bit. Yesterday I just gave myself my second haircut. I still remembered how way back to the Hippie days.
    I could teach you
    ..

    Liked by 1 person

  5. You remind me of Lily Tomlin’s “Search for Intelligent Life in the Universe.” Her radio antenna was an umbrella hat–remember those? Now, with Covid-19, we all have sticky hair. This is not beyond my imagining. I do favor gutting the clouds, though. What an image!

    Liked by 1 person

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