Tag Archives: daydreaming

I Will Wait

I know what you’re thinking—
you’re wrong.
You are mistaken to believe
that I am all impulses and urgencies
and that anyone could satisfy
this heart-shaped ache.
You aren’t just another conquest
or a bridge that I will cross and burn.
You are the enormous expanse
I have waited my life to explore—
full of depths and heights
and waters so clean and clear
I can see myself in your reflection—
and I will wait for you to see yourself
in mine.






Narcoleptic Daydream

Everything you do
seems like a step
in the right direction
as you lift your foot
or your hand
or your heart
toward motivation –
and even though
you always end up here
in the same kind of
stifled narcoleptic
afternoon, you try
to believe that one day
you’ll accomplish
at least one or two
of the things
that keep pulling you
into that daydream
that always comes
between you
and the actual work
you must do to
become something
more than this.


DeMaris Gaunt

Moving On

Moving On

Half my life

is the number of years

you’ve drifted in and out

of my memory—

those first few

the ones that solidified

and became a chamber for the rest,

the ones that wouldn’t contain you

or frame you in the doorway

which is how I remember

every moment.

The distance was so short

between my seat

and where you stood,

and the necessary task that linked our days

so quickly accomplished that

there was barely enough time

to speak in complete sentences

and so your smile must be

the key to why I’ve loved you

this long, for no reason at all

except that each time I pulled away

or moved on, there you were

right there with me.



DeMaris Gaunt


The Poet’s Pornography

It isn’t his belt or his zipper
that I want undone,
but the buttons on his coat
after he enters from a life outside
these walls, where his name is
on the cover of those books I read.
I want his mind spread out before me,
opened up as if I’m the only one
who could possibly understand
or touch his depth.

And he’d act modest when I asked him
to reveal his greatest weakness,
insist that I go first—
and I would shyly explain
the way I love to abandon my work
and waste the day, get in bed early
to read his books and write poetry
about how sad it is we’ll never really meet.

Pensively, he’d listen,
then admit with trepidation
he spends too much time online,
wasting the dark hours sifting
through the futureless talents
of flexible girls, wondering if he’ll ever find one
with an equal depth – wide enough
to understand him and forgive him.

“Do you think you’ll ever find her?”
I’d ask, and then watch him squirm
and loosen his tie as he perfectly explained
the thing I thought that only I
could comprehend:  He hoped not—
what he wanted was to keep wanting.

After a few hours, he’d stand,
satisfied and erect with purpose,
and remind me he shouldn’t stay
if happiness was our goal—
that what we both really needed was
a conversation like this,
in a private room where we could
expose some of our truths
under the florescent light
and exit into world a little brighter.


DeMaris Gaunt