24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
“Wenn ich ein Chance bekomme, bin ich bereit.”
– Was macht man mit einer Chance?, Kobi Yamada
When the distance of the night seeps in,
I get a nudge from you telling me you don’t want to be alone after you die. I tell you of
A chance that galaxies have families by their side as they burn up or burn out. I tell you quietly
I will be there too, a few light years across when you are
Ready to be a star.
Time Passages
The period at the end of the sentence
or is it really a question mark?
days roll into nights as
suns set across rising moons
searching for the demarcation
I drain the tea cup
placed into the once clean sink of vision
and future promise
is the merger only. in my mind
or is it my yearning heart beating?
I heard when a shark stops swimming
it will drown and realized sitting still
here in my own life, on this muted, sagging couch,
scrolling my phone, the television blaring, I am grasping
for air beneath the choices I make.
Even happy that I am
Not tying my shoes,
or the morning air still swirls about without
me breathing it in,
the tree leaves sway solitary missing my
thoughtful gaze.
I settle further into that couch,
the stress of papers and relationships
submerge me,
and carry me away from the light
realistically still in my grasp.
Not even waving but drowning,
or clinging to a ray of hope
that might save me
but slowly, resignedly
dropping down, unmoving, slumping still
the dangerous creature I am,
sinks to be with the other lifeless
beings below
thinking all the while
I should just
keep moving
forward.
Hour One
Dark, empty, cold;
a place for seclusion.
Now a single flower, bold,
arises in anticipation
of new growth to behold
Senses of Inspiration
Hope is alive like this song
comfort kisses from peace.
You believe above anything,
together between life and simple joys.
Taste sunshine, share blue sky
let every hand feel light.
See possibility shine through today.
Find positive laughter before tomorrow.
On the third month of twenty-twenty one
We chased time we did chase time
We chased time, all of us, to keep you with us
But chasing time was not enough.
Your time on earth, your time is up
We lost you, our base, our rock,
Losing your every embrace
Something that won’t be replaced
You are our core we are left shattered
And every day we’re lost and bothered
Chase your dreams you keep telling us
Do good things and don’t make a fuss
We might have lost with chasing time
We might have lost you physically
But your memories will come in rhyme
Your love and all will be in prime
Chasing you mother, Norma your sweet name
You might have left who else to blame
Your words and wisdom will all remain
Us your children will see you again.
The day I graduated from the group home,
They took me off the Prozac.
I wouldn’t say the world made a mockery of my breath the next day.
It was a gradual sharpening of the tongue.
I believed I was fixed.
I believed I could make the world my own if I simply wanted it enough.
Maybe, I just didn’t want it
Enough.
The Outfield
I stood in the outfield, an away game,
the school in front of me, redbrick, imposing,
no nonsense, like mine. More trees here,
more shade, more birds, grass here and there.
My schoolyard was concrete,
hard on knees and spirit. Similar neighborhood,
Chicago bungalows, pale brick apartments,
German Shepherds behind wire coil.
My neighborhood but not. A simple truth, obvious.
But it hit me hard. I looked up at a different piece of sky,
a different slant of universe not mine. Ten years later
maybe I’d call it an Existential Moment, one’s place
in the stars. Maybe a ball landed at my feet.
Maybe not. I felt woozy, like reading too late
under the covers. I was sorry to get back on the bus.
you never see it coming, ya know?
even when you kinda expect it
there’s a way
it sneaks up
jumps you
eyes
all around
alert expectation
yes, people out here
are trying to kill you
ha! empty effort –
no amount of preparation
can avert
the sudden assault
the body will crumble
you will not remember
the impact
the split seconds
of flying
through the air
the second crash
the slam
and slide
flesh a poor rival
to concrete
small bits of stone
and glass
imbedding
into what
you knew
as you
your body
the moving
breathing
self
of you
now a mass
of damage
after that
you remember
the body
remembers
and what of it?
there is no
before
it is just now
always now
beginning again
and then
again/starting line
obliterated
heading hazy
and
each step
a promise.
REVELATION ANGEL
aghast this angel amorphous
fervor in a world before aliens
leavened levitating a golden soul
where we see only what we can circumscribe
so the lightning awakens alone
one soul shredded on tomorrow
where we come seeking endings
making out our heaven as another familiar hell