One Eye Open

He sleeps with one eye open,
he explains, so death can't
creep up on me. It isn't
to be trusted, he says with
a smile. Death loves the sneak
attack, striking when you're
most comfortable: in the midst
of a glorious dream of past
adventures or imaginings
of hoped for things. Always
sleep with one eye open to spot
the bastard before it's too late.
Remember, death loves the dark.


About the Author: Paul Lojeski was born and raised in Lakewood, Ohio. He attended Oberlin College. His poetry has appeared online and in print. He lives in Port Jefferson, NY.

Still the Tao

He despised his body: 
the failing flesh, 
disintegrating organs, 
withered muscles
and bones as brittle
as a baby's.

He wanted the damn
thing kidnapped,
carted away in the trunk
of a beat-up, '55 Chevy, 
held prisoner in some
invisible gulag, 
unreachable,
forever forgotten.

Then he'd be free, mind
and spirit left to roam, wild
with the 10,000 things.

 

 

About the Author: Paul Lojeski was born and raised in Lakewood, Ohio. He attended Oberlin College, and his poetry has appeared online and in print. He lives in Port Jefferson, NY.