Categories
Poetry

I’d like to learn so many things

I’d like to be content with what I have, with what I know,

But that doesn’t sit right with me, or even seem pleasant to me anymore.

I am the student, and you are too – so teach me, and I’ll teach you –

The Teacher lives in both of us, we clueless and certain souls.

Categories
Creative Writing Stories Thoughts and Entries

I tried flying away but dissolved into static

Wandering the streets, I paused to ask a bystander a question. It must have been a stupid one, because I was turned away feeling ridiculed.

I don’t belong here, I realized – I don’t belong here, because it’s a dream.

If I am the dreamer, why am I out of place?

Somehow, the world that I’ve fashioned for myself does not welcome me.

Categories
Creative Writing Poetry

Solace

Half the earth at a time forgets the sun doesn’t sleep,

But moon gazers and planet watchers know it hasn’t stopped

Scattering beams in every direction, expelling flares,

Hooks of flame glaring into cold nothingness.

There, there is no night – endless cycle of dark spots – it is all the same, hurtling through space,

Anchor in a whirlpool of stars.

Glancing past Mercury, Venus, it reflects off

blue and green

and smiles.

No body can boast a life like mine.

Over its coldness

A kiss

Aurora borealis

Categories
Creative Writing Poetry

Superimposed

The lines are still there, in front of my eyes, striping the entirety of the dim room with black and white:

My closet, the door, the duvet cover, my sister sleeping –

Words impressed upon my sight

With not an end to them in sight,

Superimposed on everything I turn to.

I can’t. Cannot. Be like this for so long.

I’ve been killing me, ever since then.

Categories
Creative Writing Poetry Thoughts and Entries

Week on Lake Darling

It feels wrong to stay at the lake for five days and not five thousand,

during which the water and the landscape and people it shapes could claim me for their own

and I’d grow used to it all, maybe.

The flitting swallows and wood fire at twilight puzzle me, like an embrace that makes you feel guilty for leaving (or ever coming at all).

I leave while the embers still glow under low, wind-tossed flames that leave the scent of smoke in my hair.

Categories
Poetry Thoughts and Entries

Sympathetic

I found a beetle in the boat, laying flat on his back, wiggling his meaty, spindly legs in the air, trying to grasp something – anything – to right his shiny, swollen body.

Slowly, he stopped straining and scrambling on the carpeted floor of the docked pontoon and just lay there, little feet in the air.

He reminded me of myself when I try Pilates.

Pathetic,

I thought, sympathetically.

Categories
Creative Writing Poetry

Methods

You might cleave your dreams from waking hours

And whims from decisions – but I

Can’t sever a knot with the edge of reason or

Rend the weft of life from the warp of wonder.

And so, my hands are patient and deft –

If I’m given the task of untangling, I’ll take it.

Categories
Poetry

I’ve been reminded

If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen it:

What pushes my eyebrows together;

What clutches at my heart and mind.

If you’ve heard me, you’ve heard it:

What looks like silence or empty sound, but is words turned inward,

And I unknowingly wish ill for myself.

I know God, and I’d never think to extinguish this –

Yet, I forget vigilance, and the dark swallows my light, since it cannot have me.

If you’ve known me, you’ve known it,

And if you’ve felt me, you’ve felt it,

And now, I see it, hear it, know it, and feel it –

Please, remind me of goodness and of pastimes

In a form that I can revel in –

That I’ll preserve with present

And future joy.

Categories
NYC Poetry

May ivy

This time of year, the ivy on red brick walls glows Kelly green,

The same shade of the summer tops aunts wear to church under cardigans.

I could never pull off a green like that, but the ivy wears it well.

Categories
Poetry

Buried at birth

I am beginning to feel the pangs of being

Some painting one is ashamed of

and keeps facing the wall

In a basement storage room,

The stench of mildew intensifying

With every day that I sit here.

Y’know, I don’t mind so much.

After all, it is terribly amusing, I must say

To be meant for display,

Yet to function as an absorber of musty air

And only be viewed

By a visitor or two.

Is this how it was meant to be?

Perhaps, admiration in sunlit rooms

Never even was; maybe this, this darkness,

Is the only beauty to be had

In a world of unbearability.