Short poetry (random, original)

The doctor had a big gut,
the sort that looks like it would
fall
into
his
legs
were his belt not there to squeeze
his insides upward.


In the morning, before
the others get up,
the carpet like crisp snow
beneath your feet


They had two pillows between them,
the one lopsided and the other
altogether flat.


The moon, like a child's
smudged flour thumbprint in the sky
amidst spilled rock candy.


I wonder — if one massaged
the earth, would the mountains
sink
or align?


The thing I love about Greece
is the color white.
And about the color white —
bright stillness.