Kim Dower is the City Poet Laureate of West Hollywood.
What It Means When You Dream
- You Bought a Red Cadillac
- it means your face is on fire
- it means your hands grab anything that moves
- it means you want to be kissing her scarlet knees
- it means you want one bloody shrieking crimson haunted wish
- to finally come true as you speed past
- your blindfolded childhood drive until your life
- finally works it means you want a ride so fast so smooth you’ll glide
- into home right through your front door no questions asked
- it means your inflamed dream is racing you into the future
- where naked people are waiting to greet you embrace you
- are lined up to jump inside the passenger seat
- it means your headache will recede into a night of fingertips
- easing the pain your back drenched against the leather
- cherry colored ignition blush like your first hot wheeled crush
- energy pulsing feet solid on the pedal touch
- your hands 10 and 2 o’clock like they taught you back then when
- all you cared about was her skirt riding up over your cool hand
- slap her thigh it hurt to look her in the eye one kiss to last all summer
Dogs and Poetry
- Last night she dreamed of dogs and poetry
- they were giving a reading in a living room
- different breeds, long-haired, handsome
- golden and chocolate, panting, stacked
- on a loft, pouncing one at a time onto center
- stage, their poems in their teeth, collies on edge
- pugs in love, shepherds fierce with loyalty,
- labs with their heads in her lap, she was sitting
- up there with them, coaching, petting, a box
- of biscuits in her lap, rewards for their words
- which astonished the audience, a miracle, so fresh,
- new, they barked in iambic pentameter, singing
- the blues these dogs were so damn cool we all
- wanted to bite them on their pink tender bellies
- we all wanted to suck their life into our tired souls
Dead Tired
- When you’re tired
- everything’s worse.
- Glimpsing a rogue hair
- spurting from the side
- of your chin is like seeing
- the end of the world.
- Have a nap your inner voice
- instructs you, have one now,
- lay down and float into the cloud
- of dreams you should have had
- last night when the heat
- kept you tossing with worry
- about people you love but can’t
- help, can’t fix, if only they’d listen,
- but you’re too tired to grouse
- so you dance naked
- through the house, singing
- loud enough to wake the dead.
- Haven’t they slept long enough?
- Time to get them out of bed.
Kim Dower is the City Poet Laureate of West Hollywood. She has published three collections of poetry with Red Hen Press: Air Kissing on Mars, Slice of Moon, and Last Train to the Missing Planet. Her poems appear in several anthologies, including Wide Awake: Poets of Los Angeles and Beyond (Beyond Baroque Books), as well as journals including Rattle, Barrow Street, Ploughshares, Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac, and Poem-A-Day. She teaches workshops Poetry and Dreaming and Poetry and Memory at Antioch University. More at kimdowerpoetry.com.