nesting our way to reach airplane wings
don't know where we're going, hope
it's far away

life streaming in holusbolus
don't mind the sun's glare, he's always been
on a warpath of coveting the living

Uncertain lonely

Until I remember you
have gone. To find
Somebody new.

a richness of marten,
an obstinacy of buffalo,
a romp of otters,
and a shrewdness of apes

a listing of numbers,
a listing of beats,
a listening of 

lost sometimes in the dark conventions of a heart

S - a Capricorn,
I - a Taurus,
J - a Gemini,
Tyler's a Virgo

[M - a Pisces, but only just; C - an Aquarius]

thinking about how I always loved you
and never in the way you wanted

You're hard to run with

telltale, my pulse in my fingertips
buryable and shot with sienna shot
with bittersweet blush

giveaway widened eyes
eyebrows high before you can slow
them up, slow them cool

toes tapping typewriter time
tossing rhythm about, a plaything, the running cadence
of your breath, of your bloodbeat, of pavement underfoot

we can't see past the pathway bends
and I don't feel compelled to know
this time

Friday Rose

a young man gave me a rose (on Friday)

after the laughingest time I'd had with him

it's going to die, anyway he muttered (as an excuse,

as an introduction) to the rose

everything dies was my consolation in exchange

it's the best flower I've ever been given

made sweet not by scent but by

lack of expectation, 

lack of anticipation,

the goodness-just-for-goodness that was

his motivation

I perched it in a teacup in the windowsill at home

 

For Consideration

Just some things to think about, not really poetry, but still material:
I guess everyone needs validation, but compliments from you are a special treat.
Everyone wears pajamas at some point, so equality.
Journals are even an unfair account, because you cannot possibly write down everything, and also they can be self-conscious, although they shouldn't be.

Fragile #2

here we have the mystery of flamingos
a half-way love far in Germany
and the pleasant scent of lemon
all balancing precariously on the very tip of my tongue
I don't know which direction to push

Fragile #1

there is a certain symmetry
approached-but-not-limited-by
butterfly wings,
egg yolks,
and sailors
a delicate/filmy/encompassing symmetry

Fragile #4

I can't feel my toes when I run in snow
but my lungs come alive
and my heart glows in my breath
I think that's all that matters

Sand

maybe I like to walk on sand for the glow that uncertainty gives me
the smallest grains of stone slipping away beneath my feet
maybe I am tired of being so certain
soft imprints on a beach full of cutting shells, broken glass, nigh-perfect smoothed rocks
you can't tell what kind of footprints, only that something walked there
the one who holds certainty for everyone
not made inconsequential by the size of the grains
well, have you ever tried to sweep away the beach
small things don't make lesser problems
and I've tried being the uncertain one [ha.]
the same way tides wash away marks, the place my trust should be
fills in with sand and weltschmerz
                                                        [a word which here stems from
                                               strain forever placed on the reflexive
                                    persuasion, unflinching assurances,
                          like a muscle taxed too long in one hold,
                                                        afforded to those surrounding me]
credit is due, because twice or thrice I have
let my hidden guards down to be met with a cradle
high-beach sand, dry, packed, purified by wind, steadied by grasses
safety net cradling a line, It Will Be Okay
brief respites of rest to re-center, re-cross, re-construct
splinters of time where I can balance on the shifting ground of
support that is almost sufficient
an almost-perfect spiral shell, a sad surprise of blackened sea creature
more often I hold myself
caught with the knowledge that best is sometimes not enough
making me remember to keep pushing
so much like playing tag with the tide

it's always this choice, the same
there will be no dodging
there is a tantalizing bribery of natures
to be presented at the end
sweeten your disposition to sweeten the deal
selling out for a lack of danger
exactly the size for folding in of selves
an implosion of value

Utah landscapes

lavender fields

shimmery-salt-dirty lake

golden stubble acres strewn with cows/llamas/sheep/horses

sagebrush studded     
       brown dirt
   desert juniper blessed miles
             hills

 Utah lake, Utah cloudscapes,
        inescapable sunset eyecandy

blue, bluest blushing brilliant
   sky, open freedom skies

altogether a little
  raw around the edges
  and under the surfaces
  shooting raw into our
  hearts, our veins, wrapping
  wild around our spines

dry dusted summer skin

cool windy wild canyons

lucid star slipstream towing a luminous hopeful moon

Moore, OK, 2:30 AM

too bright
too much light
asking unravelly yarn brain
snagged on my request
warm red winter sweater
cold grey metal fence
metal request
trying to furnish warmth
uncomfortable, itchy parallels
         don't do this, don't just
      no more patterns
17 and never even ever
wasting wishes on petty things
war in the world and
occupied with this?
focus on this?
too much. too much.

once upon a time
(when you are swallowed by despair and exhaustion
and stumble into waterflow)
when you can't see because of dark and blurred extrapolations
you will discover, perchance:

when your ability to will
 yourself to stand is overshadowed by despair
when your balance is broken
 down by the keen edge of too many hours alert 
you will lean into the tiled wall of your shower
    maybe you will slide down gently,
    (so-slight friction on so slick a surface)
    pretending that the wet on your face
    is water, just water, tap water
maybe you will not
    maybe you will just stand
    an abject angle
    slowly carefully recovering
because it is enough, a wall,
enough to have learned the simple generosity
the honest-undemanding support
offered by a wall
into which you are able to lean
   no questions or favors asked of you

In the same vein:

I feel whole,
better,
alltogether
    no wandering
    lost last pieces
    of me
        no chasing,
        no taming,
        no trying or timing


right as rain
bright like rainbow
bowl balancing
two feet down on the ground
but head
wrapped up in cool smooth clouds

“This is about my someday daughter, already stung stained with insecurity begging, ‘Mom, will I be pretty?’ I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap listick and answer, ‘No, the word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be and no child of mine will be contained in five letters. You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing, but, you will never be merely pretty."


Katie Makkai

head tipped back
hands wrapped around rope
falling dreams
and summer things
  sun/shade
  light/leaves
metaphorically-allegorically
and how I want eternity

the things I want to say are crowding hidden in the air
hitting nerves and drawing sounds out
like a tight-tuned tinker's toy piano
and the beauty lost as fumbling past edges you glint on by
and how the joy you feel is never more than the pain
pain as currency, Pain as more alive
living lies in lieu
a debt we pay for happiness
I will not shun the scythe

Things To Read

Though I am Young and Cannot Tell -Ben Jonson

Morning Song -Marcia F Brown


Storm -Sally Plumb Plumb

two days in
chin up, eyes down
blink your eyes and
     do not miss her
think of all the things you see
     when she gets back, we will take tea
i am wide and narrow
write to-do lists to stay slow

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

(an excellent way to start the first chapter)

On Fri-the-day in Physics
we spent all trying on movie scripts
cutting them down, wrapping them around our calves like
shin-guards, tight and vaguely reassuring
 And have I read it? just the first
You tell me juice instead of grey
I wish you best but do not say so
a woman makes a cup of her heart, and in that way I hear
how he came home to
a surprise celebration of Gerald
(tunes with mountains and bears)
the hell's bells man, what a sweet sound
they were
some kind
of astounding

Ninoryck root

 we made sandwiches with our hair-

trickling braids-down-our-backs

 no plant blocking sunlight

  plugging lungs

   licking egg-whites

 lined up linoleum

  lotion with lanolin stolen from lambs

lion-gold tresses dirtied yellow at the ends

    (and I long for softrounded

     pencil chalk draw-

     ings oozing out ink

     ink bred from sin)

 dull knife pulling hand

  slick snick-snaring mayonnaise 

matching up with our very own teeth

 we slept willy nilly king

-style medley up our dreams

   with oil etchings

carving sweet ninoryck

    (and it was a good breakfast

     to be had at morning 12

     knowing like the moon did

     that for a dance of wheels

     a crown may glow)

Fibonacci and Why I Love Walden

This is all old stuff. It was for a math final, of all things. 

Psychoses

Sleep

Evades my grasp

I'm left to wonder and wallow

In my mind, echoes and hollow

Mix together

Fuse

Can't

Place in order

My thoughts or things inside them now

I have to name the why and how

Of things long since

Gone

  

Babylon

Oh, Babylon

Lush gardens soaking rooftop sun

Rich markets trading silks, gold, silver, perfume, frankincense and myrrh

Oh, Babylon

With secret riches gleaming

In your city streets so teeming with vibrant life and luxury

Oh, Babylon

My heartstrings twang at thoughts of you

And the sorry ages that will pass after you are dry ruins

Scribe

Dark

Dry and

Welcoming,

Empty passages

Beckoning for me, papyrus

Knowledge lining halls,

Scrolls filed,

Full of

Lost

Words

Gang Rumble

Midnights

Aren't kind

To those who trade blood

To make a living, to survive

Switchblades

Flipping wide

Spilling wet scarlet

Onto rough, uncaring concrete

Unheard

Half-formed pleas

Crying 'No, not me,'

Ignored because they should have known

Dreams

My fears

Collected

In the air, condensed

Congealed, and beat me into pulp

I lay suffocating on the ground as Hope looked on

She gave me a broken smile

Getting into fights

Wasn't her

Style

Fairy Tale

Raven-black, snow-white, bloody red

Princess hair, skin, lips

If she knew

Would  she

Still

Bite?

Saturday

Ann

Broke up

With Markus

Mint-cherry ice cream

Chick flicks, used kleen-ex on the floor

KS

For K:

As I was sitting,
  legs lotus-folded (like human origami)
Listening to your message
Thinking how your wry wit always
  sends trickles of glory into my laugh

As I was listening,
 ears cold without the warmth
Of your conversation to heat them
I wished for your kind of company,
  like a museum in the rain

And I was thinking
I don't know what this means

I was searching for evidence
 like a deaf man for music
Or perhaps more like a dust mote
 looking for home

Perhaps more like a map
 Embossed vellum with names of
Places etched meaningfully
 With red dotted trails leading
Looping and folding back into themselves
 Except the X is absent

I was looking for meaning
 in the ideas we'd shared
And here is the truth, I do not
 twinge with dolorousness
 I do not keep souvenirs of you

You will find no evidence of the time
          (chalk-dusted fingerprints on cold glass)
Spent with me until you
          (hush and behold the mystery)
 reach to discover moments
          (hidden and higher than most)
Stacked tall in my memory
          (tip the shelves in the library, it all tumbles down)