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Black Hole
We could’ve stayed up until the crickets fell asleep,
until whispers of
those who complain about dry rain stopped.
It’s filthy in here, the way rain water
collects dirt off tire treads,
coating the boots of 30-somethings
in teddy bear coats.
Let’s stop staring into the fire,
picking at busted lightbulbs,
barefoot on broken glass.
It’s the brick outside of the windows,
narrowing and asphyxiated,
like a fawner lacking zeal.
Who buries a dead star, or keeps its accounts
passcode protected?
Who buries the star?
Coping by way of scenarios, the plotline of an eloped soul
puts memories tucked transient
in small spaces.
You’ll need a collection of
handwriting samples, because I am not regular,
hardly average.
And we could’ve stayed up until the moon turned blue
or at least once,
until skin dusts the air
until winds become vapid with no roots to grasp at
no earth to stand solid,
that is to say
no fruition in the aftermath.
For whoever looks into the sky,
and the sky back,
will have an all-knowing internal truth that
the star buries herself,
into the black,
the deep thrall of
selfish pits.
Posted in Poetry, writing
Tagged black hole, honesty, in love, poem, Poetry, stars, summer nights
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Waves
Crash like fingertips to skin
Crash like ice
We’re still living
Moving on the ledge
Still
Not living right
You and I crash into pieces
Pollinating the sheets
Closer to the ledge
Waiting
Crash like rear view reflections
Crash like soft afternoons
Lukewarm peppermint tea
Remedies
Crash like fire to heartbeats
Sound off the alarms
Love is a panic
We crash because we intend to
Atomically
Do it more
It didn’t bother me that you lied.
Only that
You believed the truth was going
To hurt more.
When you talk to me these days
I wonder
If I am able to trust my feelings.
Hum
You put yourself at
a disadvantage
when you start your day
hours after the sun.
(Dis)comfort — irevuo
“The poet’s, the writer’s, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past.” – William Faulkner Nothing is as […]
Posted in writing
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Think I remember
I skipped with my daughter the other day.
Carelessly.
We chased the air with each leap,
bouncing amazingly free.
She smiled and laughed, asking if dad would be
watching us from afar.
He would.
Kettle corn puffed just under our nostrils,
leaves crushed under our feet.
The sun was setting, making the sky above us
split blue and orange.
Our cheeks were cold.
So were our finger tips.
And her little hand rested right between my
palm and my thumb.
She swung my arm forwards and backwards.
Her laughter was comforting.
She released her joy generously without regret.
I’ve missed that.
The thought pierced me right in the memory
of the last time
I gave out my joy so freely.
I’ve been choosy with it in age.
Stingy, and with conditions.
So when I fixed my eyes onto her face,
giddy and guilty of no faults,
I remembered a girl who once lived
happily
lovingly
carelessly and free.
Useless
I would have you over
for dinner.
But I don’t cook.
And you don’t like to eat much.
Soaking
Sitting in the rain
doesn’t make the tears go away.
This only makes you wetter.
And isn’t the point
of releasing pain meant
to make you feel well?
It shouldn’t be so hard to
get better.
Yeah it do
Let me sleep in and replay
my subconscious inquiries
I have powerful dreams
where monkeys drive cars and
do the unexpected things
like play road kill or
snatch babies when moms
aren’t looking
I’ve seen bulls leap over
pikes to save yellow chicks
from dark openings behind doors
that lead to no place
I know how the world ends
It was told to me on a sinking ship
this is where the people cease
they just fall
no landing
burning waters
screaming women
vanishings
holes as deep as deep
I said it out loud
My voice questioning herself
eyes not sure when to open
fingers tangling up
I can’t swallow
these are not my words
it only came to me and I repeat
I’m sorry
don’t believe me
You’re listening
So…
do you think it could be true
like, what if I saw the world
for what it truly is
in all its recklessness
and streams of hope
weaving in and out between
bodies and bodies
because the holy and the impious
lived together
this whole time
This whole time
we’ve all been living in fire
until the ground broke
and the people fell slanted
Do you think I saw it
with my own eyes
Your dream has no meaning
Yeah it do
Oh, now you sound like one of
your cousins
You’re listening
it’s confusing
you hear vibrations
laughter is contagious
they say
Then I laughed when you walked away
to shut my eyes
under my pillow
I stopped sleeping in
to end the dreams
to forget
that what I learned was
vapor
Yet, they appeared while
I was awake
five seconds of still
clear and vivid
an outline of a man and boy
their faces are blurred
but I know they are happy
who are these people
why am I seeing this
I saw a woman wearing all white
she had a hat
which was odd
and she had been drinking
in the day time
Where did she belong
not here
not here
Don’t you play no games with me
Where does she belong
not even in the most
colorful dream
not where you sleep
not that land
or that creation
in that world
that does not exist
Yeah it do
andthelightsdontlie 