Floating

Loneliness

floating

on an autumn leaf,

winter turns to spring

so please speak softly:

we do not want to scare the buds.

They may hear the truth,

like a riddle

read off the page

and asked to solve for entry:

a one-way ticket over the bridge

from single to taken,

a world where kisses do not betray

and suitors come equipped

with emotional intelligence

and a bow and arrow.

I hear cupid,

underground,

readying himself up—

 

just another risk

the Earth will take.

 

 

April 10, 2019

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Assumptions

assume you’re not gonna call back —

trauma says, “Why would you?

Don’t you see my flaws?

Don’t you see my fears

written out in flowers and bulbs?”

 

Ballpoint pens do not lie

like the rest of the world,

like my mind hearing you say

I am pretty, or I am adventurous,

I am, I am…

 

How about you tell me for a change,

don’t let me give my hopes up

but chase me instead–

I know that’s problematic.

But we’re both runners.

You’re faster

(I don’t like admitting that).

 

I assume — don’t you see

and the truth is if my mastery of sound

bites is greater than your impatience

for the uncertain, maybe I have a chance…

Maybe you have a chance…

 

Because I see, too.

I do.

If you just talked out of your ass

that’s one thing — but you paused,

read your thoughts, chose your words,

and said them! To my face!

In a bed, three years of friendship

between us.

 

I will not go skiing.

I will not go see your band,

or whatever men are up to

in a year or two.

I will add you to a list of what-ifs

but fuck-yous,

and I will see you again–

in passing, not friends.

 

You can’t just lay half your heart

out on the table, my friend.

I can’t, but you can, so you did.

Because it’s easier.

Because you’re not as brave as you look.

 

Are our hearts not supposed to

break a little,

after every lost moment?

Are we supposed to minimalize them,

untethered,

dead grandma in a shack,

bury her before the police comes — run! run!*

 

At least I have a beautiful line to carry with me.

No one has ever told me I look like a painting.

Or maybe they have…but not lying on a bed.

 

Because it’s not a big deal, right?

Little lapses of judgement

where heartache dissipates,

feelings exhale, share themselves

outside their owners

what a privilege to be the one

the thoughts were about,

to be there, ready, receiving?

 

A fucking painting.

Yes.

We all are, no?

 

*Last night I saw the film Shoplifters and it was truly great. This line refers to the movie – apologies for the possible spoiler – you should still go see the movie!

 

January 11, 2019

The Revenant

Last night,

at the movie,

you sat next to me.

 

The theater

was full,

I sat alone

between you

and three guys,

conscious

of my singleness.

 

But then you

rolled over,

to share his faux

leather recliner,

and I smiled.

 

Most of the time,

my independence

likes being alone.

 

It gets its own seat.

 

March 5, 2016

why I’m still into monogamy

Like a sunflower at dawn

the light circles the window,

slowly, from pane to pane:

white fabric fading along

the edges, the slight smudge

of gray near the nightstand,

a black and white journal

shedding its ink. The carpet

is still blue, like an autumn sky

with a few scattered clouds,

makeup stains sprawling.

The dresser is dark wood and tall

like a castle, the mirror elegantly

gazing at the front wall, a pair

of slippers hiding underneath.  I

open two drawers and find them

empty; the other four, stacked full:

old T-shirt memories, championships

and golf tournaments, razorbacks

and soft wool sweaters mixed together.

The bed seems bigger now, a new down

cover reminding me of a new castle,

a different prince– one I could never get

to know in one lifetime, let alone one day.

But I can still sit here, quietly, observing

the nooks and crannies, allowing time to

haunt its human victim into realizing that

we can never fully know a thing, a person,

a place– so I might as well spend my life

with one man, one window, one room,

learning to love all the fuzzy details I am

lucky enough to capture.

 

happy love day!  I’ve been wanting to write a poem like this for a while, now…I’m sure I will be returning to it in the future, to tweak it here and there; but the underlying message will most likely stay the same.  I’m super open to all types of relationships that people explore and feel drawn to, and this is what feels right to me.  xo

February 13, 2016

One for Love

A gentle tap.

A slight placement

of a hand,

carefully, on my back.

Eyelids perched

on radiant,

story-layered skin.

The sound

of your kiss

like the rain;

the taste

of your breath,

a summer wind.

Your gaze

tells me you have

everything,

right here.

I trace your lips

to remind you

I am

only extra.

 

January 27, 2016

Rings

It would never have worked out anyway,

you and I.

.

Me,

a lonely tree,

still sturdy enough

to shelter you when there was rain

my own pain present in my rings–

you wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t made you ask.

.

You,

a fallen sparrow,

just looking for a place to stay

until you flew away–

your wings are meant for flying, you know.

.

Naturally,

we parted ways,

years floating by as you flew, and I grew tall–

I can see more beauty from a distance, now.

.

I stand my ground,

and sometimes look around

at the leaves I have spread,

effortlessly,

onto the earth below:

expanding pain and beauty and time

giving only wisdom back

to the soil–

they are called growth rings,

after all.

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This weekend, I shared some of my work at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in NYC.  Considering I had not planned on this at all (had only expected to listen to some spoken word) it went pretty well! The experience paired with this lovely article (http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/01/the-mindful-life-illustrated-what-we-can-learn-from-trees/) inspired this poem…and for me to change things up and add a [google search provided] photograph.  Happy Monday!