as a tragedy,
as death and destruction,
associated with pain,
endings, loss,
natural forces beyond our control
fire
is an indication of
life.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Hannah
The best people
are the ones with whom
you may sit in silence
and work
without questions,
gossip, or forced
conversation.
are the ones with whom
you may sit in silence
and work
without questions,
gossip, or forced
conversation.
Midday Bus on Thursday
large, oblong rain drops
fell on the cherry blossoms,
and pulled the whole flower
down
straight and slow,
through cold, late April air
to the leather seat
of a red-bodied motorcycle
outside an organic coffee shop.
Maybe Death will stop for me
Maybe Death will stop for me and the two of us will marry.
I'm sure he has a poet's soul from all the grief he carries.
With the wisdom from his age, he must be fair at math.
Together, we could spend our days with Neruda and calculus.
Death will chase me, court me, follow where I roam,
until I concede at last and follow Death home.
With razor blades and sleeping pills will he kiss me goodnight
and so shall we fall asleep and never again see light.
I'm sure he has a poet's soul from all the grief he carries.
With the wisdom from his age, he must be fair at math.
Together, we could spend our days with Neruda and calculus.
Death will chase me, court me, follow where I roam,
until I concede at last and follow Death home.
With razor blades and sleeping pills will he kiss me goodnight
and so shall we fall asleep and never again see light.
Doors and Stairways
My life has been all
doors and stairways
today. There have been the
wheezing doors of buses,
leading to the short, steep stairs
into the belly of the machine.
Doors in and out of classrooms,
stairs up and down floors.
Another bus.
In one building and out the next.
And then they turned on me,
doors and stairways,
twisting into a maze,
trying to trap me like
a fly in a web.
One door says "stairs,"
so I twist down them
and find a floor too late
the plaque reads:
"Roof Access
No B1 Access"
So I twist up them.
Second door says "stairs,"
so I peak inside
and check the plaque
before venturing down.
The plaque reads:
"No Roof Access
B1 Access"
so I twist down them.
Room numbers count up,
count down.
Jump to thirty,
jump to eight,
jump to forty.
70, 71, 79.
But a lime green post-it
on the door reads:
"Room 161
Phy 212 only."
79, 71, 70.
Jump to forty,
jump to eight,
jump to thirty.
wait for the elevator?
No, my life is all
doors and stairways
today. I twist up,
I don't ride.
Doors and stairways.
And skybridges
back to whichever land
isn't a maze.
doors and stairways
today. There have been the
wheezing doors of buses,
leading to the short, steep stairs
into the belly of the machine.
Doors in and out of classrooms,
stairs up and down floors.
Another bus.
In one building and out the next.
And then they turned on me,
doors and stairways,
twisting into a maze,
trying to trap me like
a fly in a web.
One door says "stairs,"
so I twist down them
and find a floor too late
the plaque reads:
"Roof Access
No B1 Access"
So I twist up them.
Second door says "stairs,"
so I peak inside
and check the plaque
before venturing down.
The plaque reads:
"No Roof Access
B1 Access"
so I twist down them.
Room numbers count up,
count down.
Jump to thirty,
jump to eight,
jump to forty.
70, 71, 79.
But a lime green post-it
on the door reads:
"Room 161
Phy 212 only."
79, 71, 70.
Jump to forty,
jump to eight,
jump to thirty.
wait for the elevator?
No, my life is all
doors and stairways
today. I twist up,
I don't ride.
Doors and stairways.
And skybridges
back to whichever land
isn't a maze.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
She Bruises Easily But Heals Quickly - 08/19/13
Before you worry
that she's gonna get hurt
remember:
she's been hurt before.
And, every time,
she picks herself up,
dusts herself off,
and climbs the same damn tree.
She believes that,
rather than finding another tree
that she can scale effortlessly,
she ought to get better
with what she's got
because she's been conditioned
to believe
that happiness doesn't come easily,
that's it's something to be fought for,
something to be earned,
something to be practiced,
something to be learned.
So before you rush in
to bandage her knees,
remember:
she may bruise easily,
but she heals quickly
and she's just going
to get back in that tree.
that she's gonna get hurt
remember:
she's been hurt before.
And, every time,
she picks herself up,
dusts herself off,
and climbs the same damn tree.
She believes that,
rather than finding another tree
that she can scale effortlessly,
she ought to get better
with what she's got
because she's been conditioned
to believe
that happiness doesn't come easily,
that's it's something to be fought for,
something to be earned,
something to be practiced,
something to be learned.
So before you rush in
to bandage her knees,
remember:
she may bruise easily,
but she heals quickly
and she's just going
to get back in that tree.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)