turn inside out and find yourself?
it doesn't work it never has --
the thread that makes each you a you
connects what was and isn't yet --
but i think we can't clearly see
the future anymore the past;
because the present doesn't yield
the light within, but more the shadow
cast by hope and expectation:
we build the world we know as much
as it happens to us
memories like buildings become abandoned
not from lack of strength but
lack of visitors
The world that's not,
The world that was --
Are ever here, inside
Because
The heart is more
Than just events,
And time's a false
Equivalence
I once knew how to lose myself:
Inside a book, a song, the trees,
An autumn day, a summer breeze,
A carnival, two deep brown eyes,
The restless friends with whom time flies --
My heart lived on a wider shelf
When I knew how to lose myself.
I once did not the whole world feel,
Just each thing that I saw, or heard:
A distant train, a mourning bird,
My mother humming in the yard,
The shuffling of each last card --
The day seemed so much less unreal
When all I felt was what I feel.
the evening glow sinking into the bay
as he and his father walk back across
decaying wooden slats meant to be a path
but now more a series of paint-flecked splinters
and through a torn shirt, mosquitos
bring their persistent request for dinner
as he swats them away with tiny hands,
struggling to keep up with his dad
through a bent gate and into a yard where
shadows try to form shapes in the dim light
of the small yellow bulb by the back door
past the green plastic mat that reads "welcome"
and he washes his hands on tiptoes
listening to his mom singing a song to his
baby sister, who is ready for bed in every
way except sleepiness
and if he had his way, she'd have a bigger room,
a real bed, and more than the one doll, and his mom
would have a shiny lamp to read by, and his dad
wouldn't have to leave for work at 3:45 am
but he does his best to make them proud,
putting away the dishes his mom washed and
thinking about how he will learn and work and how
they will buy whatever they want at the grocery store
Hates rejection (never asks)
Hates to lose (so never plays)
Hates the crowd (stays safe alone)
The things we hate don’t harm us
as much as the hatred does.
Loves her madly (still holds back)
Loves to learn (but not at cost)
Loves adventure (in his mind)
That which we love we often
leave strangely neglected.
Irony holds sway where
The mind cannot find the quiet
To hear it call itself out
when i was ten years wide the world
believed and i was cognizant
of every breeze and wave and girl
that came out in the sun and went
into the stripling blur of years
that steeled our innocence with pain,
as we were rarely volunteers,
and lost more than we had to gain --
our bodies, minds betrayed our hearts:
we longed for when the wind blew free --
the tale that ends before it starts,
the half-forgotten melody
that means that we were once alive.
the sun burned down, the earth sped on,
at ten years wide, about to dive
into the teeth of life
head on
we blithely give out traces;
we live, we love, we leave --
in what was once life essence,
we suffocate, and grieve --
for nothing brings the feeling back
like scents of yesterday,
the chemical infusion made
of hearts that went
away
she said I was a fossil,
fuel that powered nothing,
less than everything that mattered.
but I responded never.
have I believed in them?
more and more is not so much --
= = = = =
she said I was a fossil fuel,
that powered nothing less
than everything that mattered;
but I responded,
"never have I believed in them more."
and more is *not* so much.
