Poetry – Minor bouts of mania

minor bouts of mania
fun guy
get things done
depressed
sit in dark room
give me
whatever I want
clean the house
contact
reach out
talkative
grocery store line
love me
they all love me
bulldoze you all

Prose poetry – Jigsaw Puzzle

Last night, I dreamt I was a jigsaw puzzle – a background of deep, midnight blue, sprinkled with golden stars. Someone came along and broke me apart, my round edges curling up as they separated.

Thin fingers pierced the middle of each cardboard edge with green metal hooks, the kind used to hang Christmas bulbs. Each piece of me was then threaded and hung from the ceiling.

Soon, I found myself twisting and turning upon the whims of the air current – 500 paper flares, now a floating constellation.