The Poetry Marathon

life begins beyond the edge of the map
so I pack up my bones
take my bags out the trunk
and walk towards uncharted territory

these brazen plains beg me
to use the remains of yesterday
and plant something new here
but I plop my baggage down instead
and lie to face the sky

I’ve been on my feet too long

I think we were alive before life itself existed.
All-embracing as Nothing
minute as Everything.
This black breadth is the blanket
of which all lies and truth hide under.

No perception mattered
to see, to hear, to smell, to taste, to touch
and all other ways to sense
could never disturb us.
We felt it all, unaffected.

Time cannot touch us here
we are eternal gods
swimming in the milky primordial void.
Our waltz was peaceful
as a sleeping baby, incapable of abstractions

and as graceful than
a seraph in any dimension.
When we ceased to be
we exploded and flung
to opposite sides of infinity.

But at least we created something beautiful.

When my tears fall and the droplets resemble the islands
a western wind from eight thousand miles away visits to dry my eyes.

When my feet tire from an incline of a long street
I can hear my mountains tease the slightest discomfort
Don’t you remember us, girl?

These brown beach waters, hardly compare to their blue heaven
where you can barely discern the line between the crystalline sea and the sky.

I run my hands through the sand
and feel the rumble of the land from half a world away.
Come home to us.

Is there a slow transition from living to dying?
Or does it happen instantaneously?

When my feet stopped growing at thirteen
I realized I can wear those 7.5 size shoes forever.
Did that signal my march towards the grave?

When I stopped growing a year after
I reached 5’5, the tallest I will ever be.
Is that when my body began to sink into the Earth?

Or was it when the summer excitement
mellowed each year to weariness?
Or even earlier

when my father stopped carrying me to bed from the car?
Is that where it begins?
Ends?

Winter comes down savagely
and stares you in the face
It said: This is reality
They were lies
This is the truth

I was punished for loving
the summer

(My Ántonia, pg. 106)

My love,

I regret to inform you that it doesn’t get any easier.
In fact, the road ahead is winding more than ever
and the war between you and I is, frankly
a waste of time, resources, and tax dollars.

There’s no need for defenses anymore, nor is there a need for woe.
Leave behind the paper-mache lock around your heart
and go through the motions.
You are not a robot

You are flesh and bone.

concrete cracks
children of the night hush
silence fogs the street
a ship on land approaches and
docks near the sidewalk

the moonbeam from above
frames the old sailor, drinking from
his canteen. Damn,
he mutters under his breath
Where can I get some coffee around here?

Take one last look and try to remember
before the dying room collapses into the Earth.
This was once your sanctuary
now it’s dust and dirty truths
as you pair the jigsaw of a memory to the physical.
Where your bliss was, is also where you laid aching
for the brooding sky to swallow you into nothing.
The musings on these walls were only there to
make up for the lack of sunny memories.
The split, spider-web mirror didn’t catch any smiles
nor did it give you a better perspective
she showed you what they dared not tell you.
Foolish, rosy-eyed girl
there is no place for you here.
At least, not anymore.

She gave it all up and erased him from her mind
she hated the hairs he left on the bar of soap
his suffocating boredom, plus he’s a bit too much of a nice guy.

He didn’t think she’d be a good mother and combined
with the thought that she was overbearing–there’s no hope.
And her style choices just looked desperate in his eye.

They decided to get back together.

(Inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind)

It’s noon
the leaves sway
the air sings a lullaby
and I look up at the sun
like its a reflection
of what I can be.
I smile.
Let me shine
enough
not enough to burn
but just enough to gift
the day.
I can endow these birds
the lilies
the bees
the butterflies
the stray
with a sense of time.
With my soft rays
I can kiss your cheek
before the other takes her shift
and I can be the one
to wake you
so you can see me first.
I rise
I rise
I rise
I rise
I can give all my love to the Little blue-green baby
so beauty flourishes its way.