Posts
-
-
Reaching for Absence
I thought that I could reach out my hand
and grasp the pain
clench my fist tight
and let it seep through my fingers like water.
I thought that when you would leave
I could feel your absence
tangible and tender and evolving -
who holds the heart up, still?
the heart can be pierced and wounded,
but the blood will still run through.
the blood will still run through, why still?
what holds the heart up, still?
as broken and cracked and punctured -
If you stopped to hear me, I would tell you...
The dust we kicked up on this beaten path, no longer sore against the unsoftened soles of my numb feet, will brush by my beam of bright, the wake of my flashlight, from an old friend's seventh birthday. -
Some people
These rhymes are pretty bad and this poem uses no technique; I apologize. I'm just getting my thoughts out because this is something that happens very often and is easier to understand if I have it in writing. -
Clear Waters
in a little green rowboat at dawn
the paddles' whirlpools shiver, gasping,
ripples fresh from the bitter above
if the twists and turns twist us down,
down below, at least we know
the clarity of these clear waters
