i slept for 800 years & just woke up.

the sky is pink now or maybe it's pink
only in my eyes. who can really know
what color means to another person.
the sky might also be bruised.
birds never land.
they have evolved their legs away
& now they spend their whole life
in the air. hovering eggs. nests floating
down streams. moses was a bird like these.
my bunk bed has a heart of its own 
& it walks away with out me to graze
on the squiggled lawn. a cork screw 
is a way of life. everyone i know is not dead
they have just been turned to stone.
contrary to popular belief, stone is 
the most alive material in the universe.
mountains shiver when they're snowed on.
i climb my father's statue & tell him
i love him more than ever. it's terrible
the way i loved people before my great sleep.
i always wanted to be alone.
on the street, there are no cars
but there are a lot of ghost cars. they drive fast.
if they drive through you, a song will appear
in your head & you will not be able to shake it.
i have rock lobster by the B52s
replying in my skull. 
there is a record player in there.
dust sits on the tops of my bones.
was there a flood? several?
who can tell what a place does while
you're not working. i remember just before i slept.
we drove down 222 as a family 
& there were all these new chain restaurants.
they were shiny & freshly sprouted.
i wonder where all the texas roadhouses go
in the future. it's not worth checking.
the water is thicker now,
almost a syrup. easier to gulp
if you ask me. everything is hotter
of course. the global warming 
melts all the plastic but especially
the plastic i loved like coat hangers 
& spinning tops. stone of course,
is unharmed even by heat.
if i go back to sleep will you wait for me?
my body has been refusing to ask questions 
& has been directing me to stone slabs.
a new comandment is forming 
on the horizon. jesus is full of holes
& moses is hovering above the river.
the bible is just a ghost now.
one big ghost of thin pages.
i take a small spoon to scrape the sky.
it tastes like grapefruit & melancholy.
i used to think melancholy 
was a flavor & then i believed it was 
an emotion & now i'm back to thinking
it's a flavor. the bed is returning,
galloping on its four legs.
my heart is already there
eating a take out box from 
the texas roadhouse. i'm going
to keep plunging forward.
i hope the sky is eventually mauve.
i hope the stone melts to magma
& the mountains finally get to experience
a real transformation. i too
turned to liquid & cooled in the stream.
pillow over my head.
the sun is blinking or winking
who can know which.