24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
just packed up my entire place
cleared out every room
folded it all neatly into brown cardboard boxes
bubble-wrapped every piece of china and all my asian art
tucked it into a giant storage bin
no place in particular
that it needs to be just yet
but i sense that every single thing
is somehow missing me.
Awesomely amazing.
Breathtakingly beautiful.
Cataclysmic collision.
Devastatingly daunting.
Energetically enigmatic.
Fantastically funny.
Gloriously gifted.
Hauntingly hypnotic.
Interestingly inventive.
Joyously jolting.
Keenly kindred.
Lovingly lavish.
Maximum magnificence.
Notorious notoriety.
Ostentatious oneness.
Pensively peculiar.
Quizzically quaint.
Radically robust.
Satisfyingly sensational.
Tantalizingly tasty.
Understandably unique.
Vivaciously victorious.
Wonderfully welcome.
Xenodochial xenial.
Youthful yearning.
Zenith Zen.
Neon ribbons through the darkened clouds
Staring through eyelid slits, ignoring the objects that are closer than they appear
Taking advantage of the loving support that provides, cleans and walks the dog so I can pursue my whims
I want a ukulele for our wedding anniversary. I want one for each of us.
I don’t know how to play
The tones please me, so I justify that if I don’t have a ukulele I will never have the chance.
I allow John to indulge me.
I allow others to see strengths that are illusions and I deem are realities.
Forgive me my selfishness.
I do not know how to be other.
Coming Home from Dinner
After dinner sky
sweeter than any dessert–
Whipped pink and white froth
On the horizon,
blue-grey clouds, jagged and thick,
like mountain ranges
You’d prefer I make things pretty
So I’m writing this for you –
Does my melancholy startle?
Does it sully your crisp view?
Am I making you uncomfortable,
With my less-than-perfect words;
Where losses count as beauty
And expression is a purge?
My depths no longer frighten me
With their peaks, and derring-do.
The only question left then, is:
Do your depths frighten you?
There’s almost something tangible here, don’t you think?
An answer at the end of the tunnel,
The words pouring out like wine into the glass,
The purring of the purpose,
I hear you speak, what keeps you so silent for so long?
I know the way we were going,
And then we stuck to order, and patterns,
Stuck to old ways,
Destroyed ourselves in the process,
Watching the villages go up in flames,
The master of the way we knew.
The people who knew us,
We knew nothing apparently.
Madness.
I suppose as the day lingers,
The senses grow sharper and the emotions go deeper,
Running rampant, in you and in I.
I want to know what it feels like to be a Maker.
To be able to see and hold the Earth’s raw materials in hand,
And be able to create anything imaginable from them.
I can only imagine what it must be like,
To not only have the knowledge of every tool for the job,
But to also be the perfect tool yourself.
To be able to make come to pass whatever comes to your mind.
Molding earth and stone to your will,
And changing the unbridled wind and raging river to do yiud biding.
That power would be the greatest ecstasy,
And the most amazing purpose,
That I could ever dream of.
He was born like that
With a third eye
In the middle of the forehead
Not an invisible one
No, one that everybody could see
And it was really a hassle,
A terrible nightmare
Until One Day he just accepted
To be the great medicine man
He has always been
Fuck you, I want to scream at her
Fuck you for hurting me
Fuck you for not protecting me
Fuck you for walking away when I needed you the most
Fuck you for never encouraging me
Fuck you for never having faith in me
“Pray about it, and eat a banana”
I wish I could look to you, instead of trying to look up
To a god I don’t believe in
I learned how to be a mom, by watching you
If I do everything the opposite of you
I will be the perfect mother to my child
I don’t know why I set myself up
To receive a shady denial
Of exchanging reach other’s hearts