widowed
by the waning day
i fell into
the night garden
plunging my hands
deep into
the cool soil
as if they
were roots
but a season
passed like
a whim
and i
could not grow
no matter
how many stars
i swallowed
or dreams
i surrendered
to you.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Poem from Tumblr - May 01, 2011
few things
tie my soul
to this world
like dust
when it whispers
be still
the light
is approaching
uncovered
a restoration
begins
i am made
morning
i am made
for your
eyes forming
in mine
tie my soul
to this world
like dust
when it whispers
be still
the light
is approaching
uncovered
a restoration
begins
i am made
morning
i am made
for your
eyes forming
in mine
Poem from Tumblr - April 30, 2011
i made
a white hot
cauldron of
my heart
but i
could not burn
you out
i scrubbed
my hands
until the fingerprints
were gone
but i
could still
feel you
bit my tongue
until it bed
but i
could still
taste you
wrote your name
one thousand times
but even
this exorcism
could not
relieve me
you
have scarred
my soul
a white hot
cauldron of
my heart
but i
could not burn
you out
i scrubbed
my hands
until the fingerprints
were gone
but i
could still
feel you
bit my tongue
until it bed
but i
could still
taste you
wrote your name
one thousand times
but even
this exorcism
could not
relieve me
you
have scarred
my soul
Poem from Tumblr - April 29, 2011
Small cool circles
I circumnavigate
As the wind
Scurries under
My umbrella
To get out
Of the rain
And the lillies
Bow their heads
As I pass
It is not a courtesy
A sign of respect
It is only
The rain
It humbles everyone
Even as it splashes
In those cool circles
I avoid
The ones
That once quenched
My thirsty boots
When I was
As new
As spring.
I circumnavigate
As the wind
Scurries under
My umbrella
To get out
Of the rain
And the lillies
Bow their heads
As I pass
It is not a courtesy
A sign of respect
It is only
The rain
It humbles everyone
Even as it splashes
In those cool circles
I avoid
The ones
That once quenched
My thirsty boots
When I was
As new
As spring.
April 28 Poem from Tumblr
in our home
movies are seasons
and seasons
are pressed in glass
they come close
to real
and now
but they are movies
in glass seasons
all the life
and color
extruded
they are no longer
necessary
but they are nostalgic
for us
when we
are not here
and desirous
of new rooms
where light
lingers long after
our voices escape us.
movies are seasons
and seasons
are pressed in glass
they come close
to real
and now
but they are movies
in glass seasons
all the life
and color
extruded
they are no longer
necessary
but they are nostalgic
for us
when we
are not here
and desirous
of new rooms
where light
lingers long after
our voices escape us.
Poem from Tumblr - April 27, 2011
went looking
for my soul
in the concatenation
of theme parks
and the comfort
of fast food chains
i went looking
for my soul
in the soft tread
of office corridors
and in the harsh glare
of the produce section
i went looking
for my soul
with a fishing pole
in august
and after that
i dug for it
in december
i went looking
for my soul
in the devil’s dictionary
and the holy bible
i went looking
for my soul
in the mirrors
of morning
rain puddles
and shop windows
i went looking
for my soul
when there
was nothing else
to look for
a heathen
with a zealot’s heart
i doubt i
would recognize it
for my soul
in the concatenation
of theme parks
and the comfort
of fast food chains
i went looking
for my soul
in the soft tread
of office corridors
and in the harsh glare
of the produce section
i went looking
for my soul
with a fishing pole
in august
and after that
i dug for it
in december
i went looking
for my soul
in the devil’s dictionary
and the holy bible
i went looking
for my soul
in the mirrors
of morning
rain puddles
and shop windows
i went looking
for my soul
when there
was nothing else
to look for
a heathen
with a zealot’s heart
i doubt i
would recognize it
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