i once

I once thought this:
the rapture of velociraptors may scatter chapters as horse hooves clatter
and babies lick their baking batter
and brilliant rays of sun sky shatter
and time does flips from all the rafters
while teeth in winter always chatter and
when awake at night thoughts patter
down the hall
sleep wanders after

I once thought this:
Tupperware and plastic wrap have nothing on my memory.
If you want your mother’s cookies to stay fresh just open up my brain and insert those buttery disks.

I once thought this:
In and out, dreams of dark and fluid light, what would happen if you forget to hold me tight?
Tight, me hold, to forget you, if happen will, what light fluid and dark of dreams. Out and in.

I once thought this:
On the last day of everything I was awoken by an angel screaming, flapping about my room, OR a mouse who I watched contemplate his life and death. Both had tumbled through my open window out from the moist green morning grey, and into my 6:20 slumber.

I once thought this:
everything is utterly simple

I once thought this:
everything is very complicated

I once thought this:
today on the subway a tall man with sun roughed skin and legs bent at sharp angles of knees held a baby as though it were love itself. The baby was small and its skin was the pink of naievity and its hair was soft and dark. Its eyes were closed and it slept in the man’s wide hands – the head in the right and the back/bottom in the left. The man held the baby in front of him – his arms outstretched and his fingers moving ever so lightly in small twitching motions. The man stared at the baby, and the baby swayed in the cradle of the subway in the bowels of the city in the arms of its father.

I once thought this:
almost everything can be very funny