Oct 30
Yellow Sweater's picture

Eggplant

Eggplants are oval,
each one 
a different
squashed circle. 

There are too many perfect things in this world. 
My jaw aches from well said sentences, 
and my back aches from scanning the beach for marbles

I will venerate the odd,
Illogical curves of  
a frumpy purple vegetable. 

After roasting,
I will blend its egg-like 
inside
into Baba Ganoush. 
 
Oct 29
Yellow Sweater's picture

Rotting Gold

Gold left by the roadside 
starts to rot. 

Empty streets 
swell with contemptuous pride.    

I placed my heart in my chest
and told it to wait
till spring comes again. 

But a heart contained, 
hears its own rhythm echo. 
And sings the many sad shapes 
of a smile.

We are gently screaming 
and violently humming 
into a complicated silence.


 
Oct 29
Yellow Sweater's picture

Morning Lips

Through my gauzy curtains,
curtains decorated with unnecessary butterflies, 
I watch the dark blue become light. 

My tea is bitter this morning, 
without milk or honey.

The night loses its purple as
my mouth puckers with tannins.  

Washington’s sky is grey during winter days. 

The morning lips part. 
The green grass is briefly wet. 
My small lips tighten.

I pull a sweater over my pajamas,
waiting for the grey to flatten into 
something solid. 


 
Oct 28
Yellow Sweater's picture

Open Me

I need to confront an empty plain. 
Desolation is Cathartic.

On my knees in the raw heath, 
I pray to my own smallness, 

to the tightness in my jaw, 
and my pathetic attempts at flight. 

The sky is a mosaic of austerity. 
We are superfluous pieces
that have fallen to the dusty floor. 

The scream in my throat 
tickles. 

Open me. 
Or break me.
 
Oct 27
poem 0 comments challenge: Dark
Yellow Sweater's picture

Obscured

The darkness gathers thickly around a proud sunflower. 

My beat quickens before it fades. 

I am afraid of being silent, 
so I pour myself into the night. 

My intricacies dissolve
into the single obnoxious notion that I am alive.  

Charming, 
we humans are.  

We watch the dusk 
and smile
and rhapsodize,

before, 
surrending our bodies.  . 

This morning I woke with:
a sour gut,
aching limbs, 
an unmanageable brain, 
and an empty inside. 

 
Oct 26
poem 0 comments challenge: Seasonal
Yellow Sweater's picture

Hocky Hats

Today the people were wearing hockey hats, 
They were bundled in puffy coats.
Their masks could conceivably have been 
devices for keeping warm. 

I recorded these details in a small blue book:
the hockey hats, 
the puffy coats, 
and the masks that seemed,
for the first time, 
to belong, 

evidence of the coming winter, 
of a resigned and cozy populous. 
 
Oct 26
Yellow Sweater's picture

Sign Yellow

A city made of almost broken bricks: 
sign yellow, 
and dingy pizza parlors.

There are less people walking on the streets, 
and more cracks in the pavement. 

The fluorescent yellow blares, 
screeching commands that only clutter 
the solemn wind with echoes. 

I sit on a creaky dock 
with an icecream cone 
and clothes plundered from
the second hand shop across the street. 

The omnipresent wind
tickles the emptiness 
and I find myself 
watching my tears 
fall into the ocean below.

 
Oct 25
Yellow Sweater's picture

The Disco Floor

My socks are socializing on the bedroom disco floor. 
It’s a party and we are dancing to chaos. 

I belted my song last night, 
tone deaf 
and rythamless.

Everything is screaming. 
Everything wants cake.

 
Oct 25
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(metaphorically)

I never went to church. 
Yet I write about God. 
(metaphorically) 

I don’t know why 
I still capitalize the G.

A tourist crying in a cathedral, 
I feel like an imposter  

for wanting to be born aloft and broken down, 
by my ideology rather than
Him. 

There is such honesty in faith. 
I am a liar 

not for pretending to know God, 
but for denying
Them.

 
Oct 25
Yellow Sweater's picture

Impasse

My body is the sea. 

A single star shines through my window, 
a counterpoint to the writhing in my belly.  

With the sternness of a sculpted horse, 
I address the sky: 

Where we meet, 
our restless fidgeting stops
and all is solid. 

Battle is a proud thing. 
It opens you. 

We flower in vemehnent impasse. 

 

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