There’s some barbed needle making its way through my chest.
It throbs, but I can only let it sink deeper.
For, if I grasp tight and pull, it will only resist,
And swiftly put me out of my
Precious misery.
Categories
Category: Creative Writing
Categories
Hamartia
By living this way, I am killed, every day.
Mirage after mirage, my hands pass only through thin air, and I’ve come to loathe the sight of shimmering water.
It’s funny, how invention is most visceral to me;
My mind and spirit swell with its overpowering resonance –
I, who would long to love truth more than anything.
From the beginning, so much is full of contrivance…
No soul may ever really honor the right to know another.
Categories
Solitaire
If you can’t win at cards while playing fair
Try your hand at solitaire!
But even then, you’ll still get stuck –
That’s right – what a bunch of rotten luck.
What cards I’ve dealt are all face down;
What I do I’ve hardly known.
By choice I’ve made the game this way
And it isn’t one smidge more easy to play.
Categories
Taken, granted
Beholding the embodiments of words that I’ve written is a peculiarity, and I know even more firmly
That it is, but isn’t up to me.
It really isn’t, and yet I’m given free rein
To make sacred spaces, in places like my heart
Or in the garden of an old house with withering birch trees obscuring its front.
A herald on the wind, lilacs by the walk –
See the light as you enter in, under the arbor,
Into an abode I was given, to make it my own and His –
For nothing other than the holy reasons of love and goodness.
Categories
Some things are too immensely and intensely true
To interrupt the mechanisms of mundanity, of necessity.
In the sound of the dishwasher, I hear the clanging of a railroad crossing bell
And I reluctantly go to sleep – already, again.
Categories
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.
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
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
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.
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.
I am, therefore I art 
You must be logged in to post a comment.