Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘writer’

Before you is hard to remember.

I cannot seemingly separate myself

from who I was and

who I am now. Or even how long I will stay this way.

Those folks on park benches, observing the

world through accents and footnotes

might see me differently–

a subtle release of the shoulders or

a loosing of the jaw. All just revelations I refute in the mirror to myself.

Or,

perhaps the world has changed.

Perhaps, everything else

has changed

except me.

This notion feels both isolating

and empowering,

reminiscent of love I suppose.

Before you, I held the future

like a wallflower held a dance.

But you threw it at me nevertheless.

And I ate it and puked it up.

And laughed and rolled

in its beauty,

and the mess of my becoming.

Before you, I cannot seem to remember

how deeply I feared myself and

what it meant to avoid my gifts.

Before you, the edge of my life

was my death. My own chosen escape.

Always waiting with patience.

Before you, I was a son of a bitch in ways I thought

I was great. This was a sad, and now laughable, misconception.

And all of this rubs me the wrong way,

it feels strange to say before you,

because all those folks with folded arms may see my shoulders

differently. And they are not wrong–no one is.

To them you were never really here.

But to me, you will never really leave.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

One day this body will fail me,

these feet will fall to the ground

like shoes by the door

after work.

This mind of mine

will wander to places

no one can follow.

These eyes will look glazed over

in a glare

of oblivion.

I won’t remember you perhaps?

This will make you cry.

One day, someone will not

recognize me.

Maybe,

it will be you.

If you look in all these places

for me, I will not be there.

You’ll have to remember.

And you will forget.

It’s okay.

One day, time will have its way with me

and I will only exist in you,

as a memory of the heart.

I’m writing poems now

to remind you

when.

Read Full Post »

There are moments,

and in them they hold everything.

Like currents flowing around corners of canopied forests.

Smoothing rocks and rusting metals,

carrying things back to before

they began.

A sacred seed reborn,

traveling beyond the distance of its own death.

A lilting leaf afloat, alive,

breathing its own life from inside.

All these things

disappear into a darkness.

All these things

create something new.

A moment holds everything

you’ve ever asked for.

Ask it anything now–

it answers, always,

true.

Read Full Post »

She claims all people.

She lies out like a blanket

for me,

offering her warmth

if I wish.

Or I can

howling at the moon.

It does not phase her grace.

Either way,

she will always be there.

Here.

Everywhere,

like the music

only

silence can carry.

Read Full Post »

It’s a daunting idea to disappear.

To fold into the corners of a single sheet of paper.

To bed yourself beneath those midnight green vines,

and all those other places

where doors and shades

fulfill your illusions for safety.

It’s a daunting idea to disappear.

To lay covered in a world without eyes.

To discover

your unobserved

self.

To look beyond the mirror.

There’s anger masking your pain,

and there’s pain strangling your spirit.

And you wonder,

why am I doing this to myself?

It’s quite a daunting idea

to disappear,

until you hear,

the whisper from your heart,

silencing your fear.

Read Full Post »

Today,

I tried to change my face.

I felt as if I looked like my brother, covered in his lassitude.

Forging through some car alarms and a cellphone ring like a mockingbird

amusing himself in an alley after midnight,

I tried to carry on in conversation but it was no use.

I felt he could see me mocking, faking it out.

That he could sense my tell tale heart as he talked to me.

And perhaps it didn’t matter to him at all, he kept on talking nevertheless.

And perhaps he even thought I was listening.

But this idea had left me spinning

and suspended

upon a telephone wire. Off and alone.

And in my head.

It’s in my head,

that I look like him most.

It’s in our heads,

that we miss the chance

to dance

with a

moment.

Read Full Post »

If, for a moment,

I lose myself,

it may look like stillness.

A flat-faced lake.

But just wait,

for a drop of rain

to change

everything.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »