1.17.16

Yes, I have been on vacation. It was great! Now I'm back, ready to share some weekend words with you. Hilariously, I grabbed some old notebooks from my mom's house when I was last over there. Hilariously because they were from high school and before, and what might be called poetry was inside, and it was terrible and laughable. As were my attempts at art, before I realized that I am not an artist. The following poems are not of that ilk, I wouldn't do that to you.

1-13-16

I wanted to stand in the surf

and be crushed by a wave.

Rolled with flechettes of stone

made cold, and made into the mist,

and be made into the bones of this place.

At the steps of a temple

I wished I could feel more.

Even with the heavy clouds

peering over my shoulder;

even with the weight of time

and sharp edges of beauty

I am still a dull ump.

Too heavy to float but too light to sink,

scuffed, but uncarveable.

This one was made on the same date, so I don't know what else to call it.

Standing in sunlight’s kitchen door

facing out,

I know behind me in the white slats of light

is a smile and a promise.

In every day, in every life

I have another track to follow,

hopefully with bends to the hills,

and to the sea,

and hopefully again to the bright morning

we can spend.