Mar 30

My One

I had a feeling that I'd be writing you a poem soon,
up in this tree and you down below.
Only buds, no leaves, it's blossoming , spring's coming.
The wind blows.
Moving the tree back and forth, swaying.
And I move with it too.
So if I fall,
please catch me.
Please catch me,
even if I don't fall
and everything is all right.
Without the trust of your love, I will crash
and burn, even if my
body stays whole.
The wind intensifies, I look down and you're still below.
I offer you my hand and we sit, wrapped by a tree, straddling a branch, and looking at each other.
Because you're my view,
my one, my all, my everything.
Mar 29

He Doesn't Fit In A Form

Wind swings the birdfeeder.
You're shoveling outside,
I like to look at you,
with your head bent,
shovel against your back,
and your old brown hat.

Your old brown hat!
Not sure why I like to look at you.
I mean, I know why, but I really shouldn't.
I'm supposed to be in love with your brother,
Who's catching a flight right now.
To my house.

To my house.
I like my house,
but when I see my car pulling down my driveway with you in it,
it makes me sad.
I sort of thought that we were picking up where we left off.
Before you went to college.

Before you went to college.
I threw water on your blue shoes,
and we played frisbee together.
You told me you trusted me on a chairlift,
you said we were close.
And then you started seeing her.

And then you started seeing her.
But then you left her,
or she left you.
Mar 28


I just wanted a sandwich.
I didn't want to get cosmic about anything, I just wanted to have a good time with my friends.
And I was just thinking about you the other day, wondering if I would see you again before I left.
I saw my friend's face light up; I assumed it was the girl he loved.
But it was you.
You looked at me, you looked away, you looked at me, smiled slightly.
And I spoke to you, and you almost ignored me.
I don't want to see you anymore, but I want to see you.
Is that sane? Is that logical?
Don't know, but I wept, I wept when I got home.
Jan 18

The World Done Gone

The world done gone today,
and all's living is dead now,
No one more to bow,
'Cause the world done gone away.

The cotton to pick, it blown away.
No more in the sun we got to bow,
We stand up straight and speak now,
'Cause the world done gone today.

And it don't never comin' back,
and we no carry that slave pack,
'Cause the world done gone.
Jan 18

Send Into Exile

An exigency is an urging of pressing needs.
I live an exiguous exile:
it was prolonged, often enforced, because I was living away from my most precious country.
I was a person in exile.
And I had an existential of existence.
And I want to be, to occur, to live.
Jan 18


My stone turns red when I'm near the boy I like.
A little frayed around the edges from being burned.
It longs to be with pebbles,
where it can look down and not be handed.
Unlike when it sees a rock.
Dec 05

I'll Miss You

I'll miss you.
I'll miss the way my basement fills with the smell of you, your hat hanging on the edge of the bed.
I'll miss the way you greet me each morning: coming up the blue carpeted stept and giving me a brief smile and wave.
I'll miss sitting close to you and cooking with you, the kitchen filling with our laughter over a joke.
I'll miss you teasing me and exchanging glances over a funny movie.
I'll miss washing my hands while seeing your toothbrush and shaving cream on the sink.
I'll miss your locking the bathroom door, as if I would follow you in!
I'll miss your smile and hair and eyes.
But most of all, I'll miss you.
Dec 05

A Lament

I had no words last night.
You took them from me, and in my exhaustion, I let you.
I wanted to write some beautiful poem about how fickle a heart can be, how I so easily facilate between the two of you.
And him, down in Florida.
I don't want to write another poem saying I love you, because I don't.
I like you, all three of you, but my annoying heart likes to pretend its love.
All except for the boy down in Florida, you treat me like a background.
Only noticing me when everything else fades away, or I speak up.
I'm sure something could turn to love if you gave me more time.
What beggar prefers pennies and nickles over dollar bills?
And yet, it is such a relief to know who I like and don't.
Nov 06


Oct 30

A Maiden's Tale

What lies below, I do not know.
The water: still and murky deep.
No current now, my thoughts are slow.
Like the monster that lies asleep.
A treacherous rock slips beneath  my shoe,
and sets the waters dancing, streaked.
The great eyes will open very soon,
and I shall find out what lies beneath.
A great stir from out beyond the lake,
I take a step back afraid of it,
of what lies beneath and now awake,
my knees are shaking, I must sit.
A head arises from the waves,
and tosses down droplets gleaming.
It turns and regards me with eyes like caves.
I find that I am screaming.
It opens its mouth, out comes a plume
of black and fiery smoky doom.
I am burnt to a crisp, I cannot speak.
The monster's breath! Oh, how it reeks.
So now you know this tale of woe,
of how a maiden fair and true,
wondered to know what lay below,
and is now a monster's chew.