Things I have found comparable to gravity:
I wear them all
But not always a burden.
AN OPEN LETTER TO MY FUTURE SELF
When you look back on all the wasted time
Try not to look at it as wasted
Try to see it how i see it
It’s just time.
When you finally get around to putting your life in order
Stacking the shelves of your insides
With books and green things
Leave a shelf empty
I’ll be waiting with the comic books
And the reasons why you still write poetry.
Did you know there are people out there who can see without seeing?
They’re like human bats or dolphins or something.
They do these weird clicking noises and then
They listen for the sound they get back
To tell them what the world looks like
Kind of like Daredevil
Except without all that red leather.
Kind of reminds me a bit of poets
They get out on a stage
Make funny noises
And listen for the sound they get back
To tell them what the world looks like.
It’s been a long while since I’ve posted anything (blame a very busy life!) but I thought I’d start uploading the remainder of the NaPoWriMo pieces I did so I can complete the set here, and maybe start posting newer stuff as well. Enjoy.
I’ve always been interested in language.
Like how read and read are the same written down
But context gives them both a sound
Which makes them different.
Or the words which are the same no matter what,
The only difference again being this thing called context
Can and can
Right and right
Beam and beam
So when you asked me to make my shots harder
It’s almost like you intended me to
Hit the ball off the sweet spot of the bat
Where it makes the dull thump sound
Where it feels like nothing at all
It’s almost like you should have been prepared for the cricket ball that came flying at you like a clarification
It’s almost like
You wanted me to hit you
Dead between the eyes
Like some kind of middle class, back garden David and Goliath.
So if you think about it
It isn’t my fault
Even if you did blackout for a bit.
Think of it as a brain reset.
It works on computers.
Maybe that knock on the head
Kickstarted something important right?!
Happy birthday anyway!
Sorry about the cricket thing…
There is a mouse in my kitchen
He and his mouse friends play poker
With the ghosts of my appliances
The ghost blender mixes drinks
The ghosts of pizza boxes are eating leftovers
The mice are little gangsters
Bank robbers and moonshine runners
They wear little suits and hats
They call the ghosts wise guys
The ghost of the microwave deals a new hand
The mouse we call Roach
He wins the hand
Roach tips the blender
A moth hits the window drunk
The ghost of the vinyl sings love songs to the tattooed guitar
Another day in paradise
For little gangster mice
I’ve been writing a letter to no one
For the longest time
I have been gathering my thoughts into bags
Harvesting my imagery
And storing it for…something
When i finally meet the name that will come after the ‘dear’
I will open the doors of this grain store body
Watch the words tumble clumsy
Just to have space
For her spare thoughts.
This is the dream:
She lies under a peach tree
Carelessly running fingers across the bark
Beside her there is a basket of peaches
On her other side a pile of peach stones
The peaches are sunsets
As big as her palm
She eats them full mouthed
The stones are the cores of stars
Still clinging to the yellow
She places these peach stones down
She and the tree they are on an island
Surrounded by a lake
The lake it is a mirror
The stars tread water
There are no waves here.
Everything is still.
The woman she takes a handful of peach stones
Makes them dance with small gestures
She takes them one by one and skims them across the water
Out of the water a bear comes
Pieces of sun stuck in single strands in his fur
The bear reaches her island
Shakes off the night
Take its fur and drapes it over her
They sit beside one another
Peach stones, the woman, and the bear
He tells her all about where he goes in the morning
She laughs but she knows she will never leave this island.
This is how they sleep.
Curled around a basket of sunsets.
Tomorrow they know they will do this dance again
And they smile at the routine.
My heart is a wild thing
Not like a lion
Though I’ve heard them roar
It’s more like a blue whale
Hold your ear to the ocean
Stick it there like a magnet
And you will hear it
Even miles away.
The girl is perfect
And she doesn’t exist
The girl is all of them
The ones I have loved the pieces of
She is many people in one
The girl is perfect
And one day we’ll probably just bump into each other…
I hope it’s soon.