Escribo - 08-30-12

En los suenos

de día,

en las tazas de té

y café,

en puertos abiertos,

en ventanas brillas,

en relojes con alas como

un pájaro,

en cuadernos sin escriba

y lapices preparados,

en libros en libros en libros

y en leyendo

y en tarea,

en las esperas del futuro,

en las dudas del presente,

en cada cabeza

y pregunta

y palabra,

en cada acción y

toma de té,

en cerebros

con luces de cada color

y otros más,

en los sueños

de día,

escribo.   

Orientation - 08-23-12

All the girls here
look just like girls
I used to
almost know

West - 08-23-12

Big stone

marker in the grass

points the way to

D.C.,

points the way to

shipping freights,

points the way to

different paths.

You stop at the last bench,

in a mossy nook

outside the science building,

to write this.

Because the marker

brings him to mind,

but the quiet cove

and the green cave

and the physics posters in the window

bring him to heart.

The Hardest Part of Packing Up - 8-12-12

It's like
plucking a memory
from the
soft tissue
under
my bone.
Pulling sounds and songs,
twisting whispers and words up
to be piled neatly and sorted through.
Which to keep,
which to leave behind,
which to recycle.
The synapses that hold
them together
all shoved in a tiny tack box.

It's like plucking a memory,
pulling down my posters from Cross Fit,
cards from birthdays and valentines,
invitations to parties,
paintings and doodles
by me and dear friends,
withered flowers from ex-boyfriends
and neighbors
and parents
and friends,
trinkets,
Pokemon cards,
awards for math and science and poetry,
schematics,
blueprints of spaceships,
images of the cosmos,
hearts, brains, photographs,
magazine clippings,
membership cards,
album covers from old LPs,
clocks, stickers,
and the model of an atom
that I nicked from my chemistry class
in Sophomore year
on the day Mayer didn't come to class.