Jan 15

The Great Dam

There's a creek behind my house
just before a bike path
that cackles in the summer
and sleeps in the winter.
That's where I wanted to skip
and examine animal prints
and collect a pile of sticks
to build the Great Dam.
I knelt into the bank
and muddied my little hands,
digging into the soil
for the rocks to hold it up.
It wasn't enough, so I turned
and reached for a stick.
It felt heavier then than now,
its bark mostly gone,
almost naked to the root,
but it was just enough
to hold the Great Dam.
I spent the afternoon building
and planning in the grass
until the sun began to doze
and my stomach gurgled.
I returned a week later to resume
and it somehow survived.
I began jumping over it in glee.
My foot knocked a stick over,
but I cautiously moved it back.
It was a brittle thing of beauty
and I felt victorious.

Jan 07

A Corpse In A Dead Wood

I found a corpse in a dead wood
laying on his side.
His eyes were open, but white
and still as dust.
His skin was rough like sandpaper,
his nails had rotten,
and his white lips veiled unmarked
and bloody graves.
I do not know what left him there.
His lips weren't blue,
his legs and arms and head were there,
his skull was uncracked,
his wrists were bare like skinned branches,
his skeleton was unbroken.
I have not yet seen anything as beautiful
as the shedding of snakes.
The venom in their teeth still remain
as I dream of him
even in the busy midst of my wake,
his mouth of blood
and leaning, unkept, and unmarked graves,
bite my skull, break it,
and poison my mind again and again.
I am a flesh spindle
waiting to be unwound by the universe,
but I am strung
by the corpse I found in a dead wood.
Jan 03

Chocolate Gold Eucharist

Some people remember their first communion,
some found it immemorable.
White dresses are the appropriate attire.
Pearls and white lace are lovely.
I remember the purity and beauty of it all.
I remember the taste of the Eucharist.
I remember the calming trombone in the priest's voice.
I remember the candlelight and choir.
The statues of Mother Mary and Jesus were unsmiling,
but their color seemed smooth and soft.
I was not Catholic or even Christian at all.
I held no religious belief whatsoever, but I read my verses.
It was all for my mother and grandmother.
I wanted to give them what they wanted, but who was I?
I saw the girl in the choir with me
with the bobbed chocolate hair and gold in her eyes
and no longer wanted to praise
the one person who would keep her heart from me.
It wasn't wrong and it felt just right.
Heaven on earth isn't at all a myth from our ancestors,
Jan 02

Waiting For The Birds To Come

I know the birds will come.
I can already hear their chirps
and whistles of a song.
I can feel their wings flutter
and their feathers spread.
I can see their colors dance
on my mind's canvas,
dashing and curving-
cheerfully skittering about.
I can close my eyes
and see them in my mind.
My canvas of heavy paint
streaked with black
is a sleepy yet eager raven
giddy to take flight.
Dec 19

Where Do Clouds Go?

Sand spreads beneath my feet
as I walk along the dry shore.
There is a long stretch of fleets
carrying fish, nets, and more
splitting through the uneasy waters,
the fishermen sleeplessly sore.
There is a golden sun there
and it fills the sky with soft bleeds.
The clouds move everywhere
and I wonder where they lead.

I wonder if they know where they're going
and what they'll do
because I may never know
and neither can you.
On this cold beach of dry sand and waters,
we may never see the end of it all.
In this bloody golden sky,
where do we fall?
Do you ever stare at a great big,
dark, and empty hall
and wonder where it goes?
Who knows.
Just maybe...
Who knows.

Dec 10

Winter's Lament

Bleak winter folds o’er the mountains
and settles comfortably upon the earth
to mend the grass fields of summer's dew
and weigh upon the evergreen.
It is a burden they must carry long,
their needles quivering ‘neath frost.
A chill breath brushes ‘cross hillside,
sweeping o'er light crystal powder pale,
and weaving through what hath been woven.
The sky anon grey ‘til tender sunlit horizon
should’st feel thy cheek against her breast.
I plead for thy love so luminescent,
chiselled as thy nose, nay, ivy tongue,
yet must I recount to thee my heart?
What cruelty doth thy kiss reserve?
Must thou sour thy taste for me wounded?
I whisper heavy vows withal a sickness,
not so of the body, poorly yet of the mind.
Plagued by my fathom fed thou hath wrought,
my soul hath wilted black and sickly.
‘Tis Winter within my heart, loveliest.
Dec 07

Numb Forest

The snow is to my knees.
In my mind, I'm begging, "Please,
If there's a god, put me at ease."
I feel sensation start to cease.
Is there a way out of hell?
Where am I? Can never tell.
Give my life, not much to sell.
My time is up. There goes the bell.
I can’t see through the storm.
My arms and knees are getting worn.
It’s cold. My jeans are getting torn.
Starting to regret ever being born.
There’s no coverage from the cold.
There’s a treeline beyond the fold.
My skin is hardening into mold.
God, am I getting old?
Is my hair turning white like snow?
Will my family ever know-
what is happening to me. No?
Does the wind cease to blow?
Does the land ever curve?
Would I ever get the nerve
to trod into the dark-
and what purpose would it serve?
Do I really want to live-
in this snowy wonderland?
I don’t think I can.
I see the skyline now,

Dec 05

Value Them

There are kids crying on TV.
They're mourning in front of the world,
publicizing their pain again and again,
trying to spit a message at the country.
People don't understand.
We look at kids running from Syria
and we wish we could relieve them,
but the terror of our own children
is totally normal to us.
We've seen it all before, no doubt.
We're a country of blue cough syrup,
downing a cup and then another
to numb our morality,
but telling ourselves that we are okay
again and again is blatant and cruel
because we are far from being okay
and happy anytime soon.
I can't watch mourning people my age
weep on live television and be ignored.
Dead people need a spokesperson
to stay alive forevermore.
People don't care about the cold killer
stalking the lives around them for blood
until the cold barrel is unloaded at them.
Murder is on the market.
Dec 04

The Warmest, Loveliest, Thing

My throat closed
when you wept
against my cheek.
I heard your heart
thump inside you,
slowing and speeding.
Tha-thwump, tha-thwump.
It was so subtle,
but it was there
against my ear.
My eyes warmed,
waterlines stinging,
as I listened.
You let it out then,
what you felt.
I felt it with you.

You just wanted
to be heard
by someone.
You sounded like me.
I was so lonely,
but I wasn't alone.
You taught me that.
Pain is a given
and when birthed,
you touched my hair
and caressed my back
and whispered.
You reached me
through my nightmares
and guided me,
and in my dream
of certain death,
you held my hand
and whispered to me.

It was the warmest thing
I had ever felt
and the loveliest words
I had ever heard.
I can't imagine
this cold winter
Dec 03

Hello Stranger

You always say
that no one is there for you.
That's a lie
and you know it so well.
I saw you today
surrounded by your friends
laughing with them
and you've known them
for a while.
Though you shared troubles
they stayed there.
They may not be there forever
but they're there. 
You told me about your struggles
and I told you
everything that hurt me too,
so what is this?
Do you not care what happens?
Was it all for not?
It hurts to know that I'm no one
to someone.
You're getting better, I know.
You're leaving.
I can feel it when we speak.
You're pushing.
I'm just another friend to you.
You ignore us.
We're right here, and you're not.
It feels wrong.
Today, I didn't feel like your friend.
I felt distant.
When you're a kid, friends are forever.
We're older now.
We've stepped off of the tricycles
and into cars.