Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Day 953: leap year. musings. williams.

the only thing i can remember about this day
is a black man
with soft hands
the way he told us
he had lived 4 times as many years than his age
told us his body was made in the shape of pages
and that if only
he could be read
into dusk
would he know happiness

he told me a story about a midnight train
about a girl named saturn
his daughter
with eyes shaped like a ball of gas
fire spitting from the edges of her lips

he told me
his first fit of courage came in the aftertaste of an affair
and the way the words split out of his mouth to her
how strong he had felt in honesty
in an unsettling situation

the only thing i remember of this day
is a thanksgiving email he sent
how it spoke like a poem
how we all wanted to speak like his poems
or like his hands
or like his touch
or like his voice
how we needed his approval
because he had touched the stars
and named one after his daughter
how he had taken the midnight train
and named it after us

we wanted that kind of magic
so when we were in his presence
we'd open up our journals
and write the little words
all the small thing he whispered
tried not to cry
while trying to be honest

the only thing i remember about this day
is the smile on sauls face
when we entered the main stage
how the president was sitting in the back corner
and i could here sauls voice over the whisper
how he told another poet
that he was my teacher
and that i had taught him something

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Day 951: baggage claim

she probes
as if there is something caught under my skin
something foreign
that must be removed
i asure here
there is only me and my memories here
nothing else worth mentioning
but she wants them too
the memories
to be opened liked picture books
and read aloud
and too many of them
are broken into screams
and cries into the night
and i've only just found a place for them to be silent
and out of the way
so i refuse her embrace
down want it all coming back up
to bite me in the face

i just wait
for the questions to stop falling out of her mouth like white wash
and for the silence to take over her body
the way it did to mine
months ago with her touch
there is nothing dishonest about turning away from something heavy
nothing wrong
with leaving your baggage on the trolly
as long as you promise
to never go searching
to never miss its contents
to never check your claim ticket

Monday, February 27, 2012

Day 950:

i do not have enough experience to fill a page
all intent has left my body
i am a walking shell
aa hallow corpse
every bit of poetry
stuck to my sleeves
telling the beautiful people who pass
to take a piece of me
that part at least
is free

i keep asking for from myself
and life
and breathing
dont want to put in what i need
i stay
sit back
watch the days pass like promises
and fill the lines like practice
nothing comes in
nothing goes out
a factory broken down to the basic
lost its magic
theres gotta be something out there
a golden ticket
maybe 3 or 5
a child who knows whats missing
a glimmer like a promise
a smile like a key
someone who makes their way past the gates
and opens me

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Day 949: 50 days left

i would have rather
off the side of a cliff
than to wither away
like this
my artistry
till it disapears

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Day 948:

said with a smile
laying in the palm of my
hand. no promise there

Friday, February 24, 2012

Day 947: death

death is a confused concept
something we've tried so hard not to write or think about
not even science seems to have the answer for whats after
im starting to wonder
what happenes to those of us who dont even make it out of the gate
whose scrols are already blank
partially at least
its something we try not to think
not too often
but sometimes
a childs smile flashes over your newsfeed
and yo utry not to read the captain
because you know it says something broken

and then you spend the rest of the night
doing anything but sleep
wondering where she went
and whether or not she remembers being here

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Day 946:

watch the silence settle
the way it cannot be kissed away
not by me
not today

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Day 945: a castle for two

there were so many poems
i was ready to write
last night
as your chest was rising against my spine

this morning
now evening
is only filled with the absence of words i left
scribbled on the insides of your cheeks

loving you is like building a castle for two
or a boat
or a bike
anything that holds or moves
and everything seems perfect
until one morning
someone turns off the lights
and you cant see anything but your own hands
cant feel anything but absence
dont know how much youʻve built
dont know how strong is stands
how long it may last
just that it was once there
that you were holding it upright
and now,
instead of the steady moments of creation
all you feel is left
all you feel is alone

wondering if you built something strong enough
to stand on its own

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Day 944:

silly how time stills
slows while we suffer in distance
warps in our closeness
never stops
is always turning
keeping us on our toes

Monday, February 20, 2012

Day 943:

to be back
pressed against your body
is to be back
within my own
without the wonder held in shakes
of when you will return
for the time being
that part of my mind is silent
and the rest of me
is set ablaze
wanting to hold all at you at once
before i am left alone again
even of myself

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Day 942: waiting

i would write a poem for this feeling
but there are no words

Friday, February 17, 2012

Day 941: Father

i taught myself
at a young enough age
to turn the tone of your voice
into an embrace tangible enough to keep me still

in the evening
when the woman
in me is shaking
When the years between childhood and today are too heavy to carry
i put your record on a slow repeat
remind myself that our life works in rotation
in cycles
and that i will find myself near enough to you,
to call myself home

this is the kind of morning i am waiting for your voice
your early kitchen stumble
your coffee cracking confidence
this is the kind of morning
i need a reminder
need to remember that i am in your home
that i am a product of your love

when you send me poems you have written for my mother,
i cry
i can tell from the weight of your pen stains that the love you feel for her is the truest thing youʻve ever known
i want to be that sure someday
hold my love close enough to my chest that she begins to fall through me
i am reminded that you,
are like me in more ways than we have ever imagined
that we are both just trying to love the people around us
without exceeding our word limit

i wish there were a way
to say these words
but this is the kind of morning where mouths fall silence
when i lie awake
just waiting to hear the coffee grinder set the morning ablaze

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Day 940: Dearest Hopoe

skin feathered with yellow lehua
setting the coastline ablaze with the dance bursting from your pours
you ocean
you dance to my melody
moment under my skin
begging to break free

you taught me to dance on the water like a promise
and i left you
only to be covered by the heat of my shortcomings

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Day 939:

every time i sit to write
the only kinds of phrase that jumps to mind
is the closest kind of silence
the kind iʻve found
bursting behind your eyes

bring it back
bring it all back to me

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Day 938: collapsing game

meet me in the corner
where things fall apart
where the silver bits
of you
crumble to the concrete
and you find yourself
plating gold onto your outsides
hoping someone will find your sparkle
demanding of attention

sometimes no one is watching
and i feel like someone is
and the weak parts are starting to fall
and i try to hold them together
and i find myself reaching for you
and the promises that cracked us in two
and all i want is some silver
some gold
or the strength of a diamond
want someone to see my shell
find it beautiful enough to hold
so that maybe we dont need to play
this collapsing game

Monday, February 13, 2012

Day 937:

Absence makes the heart burn its bridges
I found you belly up browned by our ash
Wishing you could move
Just a little closer

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Day 936: remembering sweden

There’s beat hidden in this street
Speaks like stories spread between friends
I’ve seen nothing like Sweden in spring
The bling of 20-karat smiles
Shaped by the sunrise
Where 45 degrees
Means it’s the warmest it’s been in weeks
You’ll find me huddled in the warmth of a corner pharmacy
While blond blue eye beauties
Break bread with the steam of their breath
How their mouths foam at the edges
See me
Call me American
Call the tone of this skin
The shape of this body
the stone wall in my skin
these fist
find solace in the soles of me
kissing bricks
like it’s a dance
like it’s a promise
to make music

I found you
Harmonizing with the subtle sound of morning
The silence of our sunrise
You’ve turned to music
Left even the right smiling
I am cold
But your body is a fur coast during winter
A promise of protection
You wont have yourself being confused as foreign
Not in the center of your homeland
Not while you walk laying bricks under you
Building this city from your soles

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Day 935:

they ask me to write
in letters
in voice mails
send me emails with a request to be more open
i find nothing in this exchange
just shame in the lack of what i have to say
projects pile themselves over and over and over again
none come with their own closure
not unless you are prepare for the digging necessary

and today i am not

Friday, February 10, 2012

Day 934: brittle

i find myself awake
someone tells me to try
show my worth
i stan still
wanting to be a light
for you
ignite your bones
find myself patching parts of my bones into you hoping it'll bring you more than brittle breaking

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Day 933: something quiet

something about my body is silent in it own siren

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Day 932: wondering again

what can you tell me of this promise
the parts of it that cannot be read by the tenor of your eyes
what of it is solid
something to hold me steady
something that might be able o hold me in my old age
what can you say of it
can you tell me how it will move
if it will dance across water like my memory of you
or will it lie still
unchanged by time
is it something i can memorize
like the scent of your hair in the morning

these are the things i find myself wondering
when you are nowhere near me
but i know
i will find myself under your spell again soon

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Day 931: melody

she sang me a song
her fingers strumming my chord
love found, melody

Monday, February 6, 2012

Day 930: castle

how is it i've forgotten how to write a poem
that is stronger than the sum of its syllables
that can build itself into a castle of a metaphor
how is it these things are so easily forgotten
that they fall through me
without notice

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Day 929: arthritic rugby

i had forgotten what it would mean
for my body to defy me
thought i could banish those kinds of memories
but i woke up this morning
that this body
didnt belong
and it would fight it ways out of my own control
wether i liked it or not

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Day 928: haiku fuck you

she whispers something,
quiet, she begs. i do as
im told, out of love.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Day 927:

cold, only comes to
the still. iʻll keep moving then
cant let my words freeze

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Day 926:

silence form my side of the phone line
keeping the air clear
i can hear your voice sprinting through the atmosphere
telling me to keep my calm
to hold the small parts together
just a little longer

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Day 925: response

her body
an explosion
in the cracks of my palms
a smile slivering across my cheeks

her back pressed tight against my chest
no room for leftover gravity between us
everything about these bodies
magnets crashing into each other
into stone
into home

these are the moments that come to mind
when my spine seems to sever itself into a tremor
where there is a quake at the base of my faith
when i feel the days multiplying into infinity and i feel myself spiraling
falling into the cracks
when i wonder
what part of her life i am holding her back from with the carisma of my smile
what doors she may never turn
never find open
because she is too lost behind the gate of my gaze

all i want is to be whats best
to hold her into ever morning
and i wish
i could do that all
without making her wait
without making her worry
without making her think that she has to hold every pebble of my insecurity together
turn me into the boulder im meant to be
want to be for her

there will be a morning where i learn how to hold her earthquake heartbeat stutter still
this evening is one of those
when i find myself practicing
trying to get it right
because there is no other way