Golden leaves in the park of your memory

Write what you can’t photograph. Write it so your memory doesn’t keep it away.  Begin to remember why you started in the first place.  Where you heart rolled in in the first place. Where your mind began its magic. Where you started to surrender And started to win

Poem for sight

I’ve never cried with one person so much before
Or one person in mind
One heart
For weeks on end I cried for you
Eliminating a past brought on by you
Waves of lashes left one tear
After another
Weighted chest, the last to recover

People sleep when they smile. And I haven’t seen anything more beautiful than that
Flowing eyes
Northward towards all the stars

I’d whisper

My eyes show it all. Underneath actually
the dark rings velvet under the sea of green

On my left hand

there is a line

discernible yet discreet

It’s a little off mark but still sort of like the breeze.
someone said it’s a lot like freedom, but honestly I’m a little unclear as to what that’s even supposed to mean

The little spot under my right toe. That’s where I prefer to keep quiet,
you said it right: like a light on fire
The heat with which I write
comes from the place inside

The pain in my back
goes down my right leg.  all the way down the back of it.
The proof that the mind will never begin to still. No matter how much the body quiets

The dreams that keeping cropping up in my mind
Are neither fictitious signages or burdensome bandages
They are glimmers

and remembrances

The nails that I keep
Short and sweet
Are not better to scratch you with
what I’d whisper to your sleep.

Home spun

I’m in love
In the last way.

Home

Remember you lifted me up
And took me home
With the flowers still beneath me
And
you shared
The final thoughts with me

But it just sounded like one word.
Home

I wanted you to be my youngest cause.

Beginning to take me on.

Let the leaves fall
Home

Buried mountains
they Call me
Home

I vied for Your attention

Because
Forgetting the sun was my only way to get you
To Come home
Let me wrap you up
In it
in Home

I had a friend say in a frenzy that life opens in the wildest ways. There are always words to psychoanalyze
There are moments waiting to be displayed.
it don’t think it matters much . Love has her own way

The summer ran empty
With no kids around
For one moment I felt the heat
Through my dress
No lesson
No less
Each morning was felt in each oncoming step.
Each blessing: she came, dragged her skirt and then left

 

Seasons

The seasons pass almost monotonously. With no touch of lightness or brevity. My mind here it goes quite. It searches for some foundation. For some answer to the source. For some answer to the other. For something obvious to report.
The thing that this travel affords is a remembrance of the place where we started. The life. The bias. The taste. That you had for me. The way your mind slithered around the light of me. The way you wanted me to be.

Cambodia heat. I remember it strongly

Who knew what one trip would do? In the light of one mountain I put my own ring on my own finger and thought only of you
In just one bus trip. One place. One sun up. One sun down. One bird in flight. One ghosted limerick to remember.
Somehow I thought it would be a simple endeavor.

belief

Blessed to have begun on this earth, to have traversed this earth. To have succumbed to this earth.
Fortunately for me you see.
Exactly what I see
Is that you with the life like skin?–The aged heavy lines
I borrowed that line from back behind the days of my youth…when I wrote with conservation and not one piece of assuridy for truth
Through this heat I remember all things. Of my past. Of my future. Of all things in between. In this heat I sEe ur face. A golden light bringing in to view. Not the shadow and form I once knew
I think in hardship grows respite. I think in my life I grew fields of grass from grief.  I tended to it sourly. I took to it mildly. I applied it to my moist skin and I turned to show those in the mirror and with that non-reaction of an audience I really hoped to win over,  I turned within.

grace

I’m writing you today to see if you can hear me. I’d like to start a story with you. A meditative quandary. The road you’ve built for yourself has been brimming with noise. Certain people might say avoidance. I prefer poise.
I say that only because i was once your younger. I wanted to be see through. too. When i looked at the mirror in the daytime–that was the only time I’d spark. Soaking in the light of it.  If I was just a little different- my round eyes a little more tight if i was darker haired , sharper nosed my life would make sense. have purpose. i suppose.
But I was only on the ground. My heart became a placemat for the only seemingly quiet to be aroused. i was hidden in the back room. by the radio speakers. hand over mouth. trying hard not to make a sound.
When folks would walk through the kitchen i would hide on the roof. when words were meant for exchanging  i would count the letters on each finger til i spelled out truth.
i thought i was (silence)
in its graceful way
i believed only in the choir
that passed by me in the day
i kept it  home and quiet.
I did it for the proof
of clarity that lived inside me.
a woman/child. ingenue.

winter poem

who cares if nightly walks lift your heels so one boot goes up and then the other.
the crunch down on the snow. in december.
The lighweight sister of the more more powerful september.
she storms. flakes falling. before the winter drifts hold her down and try to make her remember.

I’m pretty sure ive been here before.

the way that record stands still. the way that light has captured that wooden way.

there are voices from the left of my left history. that mirror that kept me sane.

and all the while you kept me there searching. abandoned at bay

exercise for the heart

my back my pain. my start. my recognition my isolation.my imagination. my heart. my upbringing. my ending. my feeling my mending. my heart source. my incubation. my devastation. my beginning. my maturation my starvation. my inclination, my beginning. my intuition. my fruition. my absorption. my ending. keep it together. keep it all together. keep bending. the start. find my walkway. find my causeway.  my through way. the beginning. i’m incomparable. unbearable. i’m illusive .  i’m inconclusive. .my beginning. my start

Built

Built
I fell last night
Hurt my foot
And decided to fall
Everybody knew I didn’t belong.
It was moments before I turned to go
Everybody was moving to the Beatles.
Every single last one
and one day the words
will become clear heart to heart string to string bringing clarity to every point
Like the times we played the rubber soul
Till it hurt in our hearts. On dad’s bumpy boat
The rain fell so hard and
cut the underside
and kept us afloat

I’m bits of what i resent
I’m swimming alone again
hearts content
What I catch
When i holler
When im not thinking things through
when i’m blank
Keeping motion but with peace running through

from the other

I’ll remember the holes in these days
All the times I’ve looked up at that old heavy sign
The thoughts of your place in it all
across the mountain
Divide
As a child I wore relinquish
Written across my face
I would wait for the train
But the train wouldn’t come as a woman I tried to blush
I knew its impact
Its reasonable interest the reason it had its push

I wasn’t 18. No matter what you say
I see my friends dying . The trees . The leaves falling . A cascade of falling leaves
a remain of what once was
Been bitten by the future is here bug
The life it flows past us like a shot of a million times pieces dreams realities mistrust

Your room was there
I mean I saw it
In incredible detail. The pillows blankets the throws
Part of the reason you made up a part of me was because I was looking for sisterly intent
I was looking for recognition
condescension all of it

I’ve fallen for you
5 times before
Stuck on archless angels
Falling face first  to the floor
I’m mediocre in the morning
I’m cornered to the core
Carefully keep the door open for me
Care for me like never before

Ill riff for you whenever you’d like
These pictures I put up aren’t really me
They are a version of who I would like to be
When my mind lifts itself outside of  dusty corners
When I remember to breathe

Reason #12

Have got eyes that burn through centers of you.
Even though I have no real seat in it. I have a real memory of you

I love when kids look up at me.
right from the street
It makes me forget the sadness in it. the defeat.

drafted and unnamed

There was a steady man with a steady hand
2 eyes on the door.

Each appendage affixed neatly
glued tightly to the floor.

He introduced himself to me
Resembled somewhat a version of my father
But there was too much stray light  in the way.
It was too difficult to see.

An instant of vision
of which I barely remember
A sight. A crowded vision, but in the distance,
a contender.

I fashioned my shadow to him.
2 hands reflected on the floor.
we held hands him and i
as he paraded me through back of the house
then out through the opened door.

The tug came upon me  instructing
at a time when i could hardly comprehend
this feeling which would later be intuition
which all it needed was love to tend

the swift of hair in my face.
blew across my mouth
i stroked it away gracefully
but it had already fallen into place.

behind my shoulder i crawled my eyes toward you
i didn’t want for you to see me stare.
“as you wish” we mumbled softly to one another.
like an afterthought that dispersed in mid air.

Creature of habit, I cried for you.
i fell in with the despair.
it built oceans around me for centuries.
every dream every dare.

writers

Been writing limericks

ever since i was nine

ever since my keeper

left

and left me behind

walk

I walked across the bridge last night
skull and crossbone print on my dress
My unending distress when I finally reached home
And my world had washed away from me
I couldn’t find my pots my plants my dishes my
towels all my extra added fixtures
I couldn’t find the rest.
I cried at the sheer size of it
The truth that I had made the mess.

I always thought that I was a woman of some other plane
That the competitions and contests weren’t for me – but when I lost all I had to keep
I began to quarrel my belief and I watched as it swept its way out to the sea

“Put your pen down”

There is a cop right in front of me.
He has his cop hat on.

He’s looking for some sort of action.
He’s looking to look strong.

Shit, I think he sees me writing.
He’s going to put his lights on.
He’s going to follow me for miles
He’s going to string me along.

Fix this illegal ride. Can you see my mistakes? They’re keyed (quite large) on the car’s left side. They are thick and steep. It wasn’t my fault but when the policeman came up to me he was grinning uncontrollably. He took out his key. He licked it from the bottom up, glared at me suspiciously and started cutting deep.
It stung at first
And then I went numb

I didn’t know that those grooves that were left
left even more room for more depth

Each cut stronger than the next
I didn’t  know the severity of it; I was blinded, dumb
But thank you, first one, for making the first cut
For letting me see the reality of it
For setting me up.
Been told I’m a sheltered woman that the cold runs off of me with a heavy frost. That the nordic stream runs through me with neatness that I’m lost. I’m lost
But thank you, father, for giving me life for taking one breathe . One inhale . One heavy blow
Now I know for centuries what it means to be me.
I get it.
I’m lost.
Not free.