Dreams Pt. I

 

Dreams seem like isolated bubbles until we
wake up from the flow state
Or
Staying afloat on water, strolling downstream 
Being tickled by touches of droplets and burbles
Dreams sometimes have this way
of making life occur in another dimension
Painting happenings
the way I like to with words,
or
revealing details and make them believable 
before the story ends
Dreams are like the exodus of a journey
between worlds
If only brains were really dreamcatchers 
If only some dreams were fueled by steam trains
so they don't have to go up in smoke,
rather seep into our pores
Seems like only the good ones get revived,
along with the terrifying ones and their
summarized plots
and the rest
fall through the cracks
like crumbs
So, where in the depths of our dreams do we lie,
aside from the surface
next to out fingertips?
Where do the bubbles go the moment they pop?
And how can dreams be resinned to be something 
to go in the back pocket?

~Tina Meeks

A Loud Voice

 

Sometimes pieces break 

before the needle is threaded all the way through,

like popcorn strung sentences.

He sounds and moves words that give me goosebumps

and make them go away

again.

Rings on the right pinky and ring finger,

he can fist bump from the soul.

He'll never be lost under the sun.

Breath going in and out like everyone does.

Tormented like on elementary school playgrounds

mounted on a calendar to never

be forgotten, but marked

of that preserved time for when 

someone thought less of him...

~Tina Meeks

Perseverance Pt. I

I don't pedestal you

Easy on the eyes and so suave

Your voice itself

each time you speak,

you speak accolades

A voice with paragraphs between breaths 

spilling memories with father telling

stories with intimate details

I don't pedestal you

I admire

the pureness in your voice

The uncontrollable urge to

speak with hands and sway to convey

energy, feeling, time

You bend those things with emotion

and conviction

I don't kneel down to you, trust me

but I like the way you speak on paper

and now that you've shared your echoing tone

it's all I hear when reading your voice

~Tina Meeks

I'm Lost

My brain feels stunted and lusting over

a time that existed as a fragment or a clipping 

from a newspaper found in a box

under the bed.

Dated.

Timestamped in a place

that once was quiet.

~Tina Meeks

 

Sleepwalking

My dreams try to capture you at night

so I wonder if you sleepwalk with 

every desire on your sleeves,

or do you believe you're invisible?

~Tina Meeks

This is What I Think You Are

 

You are a moonless night

the loneliness of a cricket in the brush

and the curtains whipping in the breeze.

~Tina Meeks

Poets

 

You and I have been shifting

and gravitating

like the planets and sun

Your silent poetry struck me

Captured me

and gestured quietness in my dreams

You are the same there

Cautious smile

We didn't quite hug

You painted feelings lightly on my side

while I searched for your confessions

in the depths of your canyons 

on a Summer day

Blowing smoke absentmindedly 

in a farraginous bubble.

~Tina Meeks