My Letter to _ That I’m About to Burn

I’m going to pretend like it didn’t hurt;
brush it out of my heart,
pack it in a pocket of a pair of jeans
that I’m about to set on fire,
because they say fire can cleanse all things.
I’m going to pretend that you didn’t notice
the synchronicities falling out of our head
spaces to the rhythm of a metronome
that we programmed in a time traveling window.
I’m going to pretend that you didn’t feel
the galaxies pulsing through our bodies
and forming nebulas with each heavy
dark matter breath and vibrating touch.
It’s easier to pretend this
than to say how much this is
like a machete to my soul,
and that you’re a fucking coward.

Lost in Space

Your face is dark
like space
and the lostness
of what I was searching for
in a space
of molten hearts;
and i eat rocks
breaking off the moon
everyday for nine years now.
Your face a ghost of all
the other ghosts before you
and after you.

Heart Bag

Her heart lives in a bag
outside, blowing with the wind
rolling in the dirt and rocks
and
sometimes floating, just barely
but always
in swamps.
She tied it to a stick once
with ligaments of swamp creatures
stringy and fierce, and full of teeth.
But the bag ripped,
heart out, and bleeding
everywhere.
Never tied to a stick
person
again.

The Nursing Home

It’s the being there that counts.
A warm hand to counteract
the cold sterile sheets.
A familiar face to drown out
the millions of television voices.
Nothing else matters
in those trillions of star spaces
between womb and grave.

(napowrimo day 29…and for https://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/04/penultimatums-voyages-end-almost.html )

Why Children are Fast

There are things out there
in the dark; quiet creeping
things that sound like
the wind rustling trees,
and will grab you quickly
if you stray too far
from your patch of moonlight.
Don’t get too close to any
tree. The trees hide things
like portals to unmentionable worlds,
and creatures from those worlds
want to eat your legs and arms off.
Stay on that gravel path, and run
faster than the wind back to your
house. Once inside, stay away from
windows. (these are portals too)

(for napowrimo day 28…and for: https://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/04/boogeyman.html

The (not so resting) Bicycle Face

Mary had it, but she didn’t care.
She could ride a century in a day
in her brown bloomers and laced black boots.
She was a scorcher on her bone-shaker
much to the chagrin of all her kin.
But Mary didn’t care.
She knew you only lived once,
and in 1893, fainting on
a couch was not at the
top of her list.

(napowrimo day 27….and for https://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/04/writing-shoes.html I was also inspired by the women who rode bicycles in the late 1800’s.
““Let me tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. It gives women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel…the picture of free, untrammelled womanhood.” – Susan B. Anthony

Haiku for a Heart Cut Girl

She still finds herself
on the peripheries of
this marquise cut world.

(napowrimo day 26…and for https://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/04/outsider-art.html)

Any Refrigerator Boxes for Rent?

Some boxes have made me quite angry-
Oh it probably wasn’t their fault,
not really.
One was quite quietly pretty-
ornate mantel and a stained
glass window, but
the box that was stacked on top
was too noisy and moved too much.
So, I couldn’t properly enjoy
my own box there.
Another one was perfectly alone
(never even got soggy after a rain)
but it was ugly inside, and had
a dullness that no box of crayons
would ever be able to fix.

But I remember pure bliss-
a few times
as a child
in a refrigerator box.
Maybe that’s all we really need.

(napowrimo day 25…and for: http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-five-3/)

Trying to Sleep

Sleep
Dream cocktails
No anchors aboard
Strong rip-tides thrash ships
Tired

(napowrimo day 23…and for http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-three-3/)

Mother Earth

We have cut off her tongue and
stuffed trash into her mouth.
Only those that will look into
her eyes can hear her now.
We have sewn bombs into her body
and watched her bleed onto the
faces of her children.
We have forgotten that we are
all her children, and she
could have held us all if
we hadn’t cut off her arms
and replaced them with hooks.

(napowrimo day 22…it’s also Earth Day…we need to remember to love the earth and her inhabitants every day)