Poems · writing

Unintended Consequences

Push and pull

Out of control

Well let’s go since you seem to know

The way.

Between the click of the light and the start of the dream

When it ends,

Before it ends,

Will you keep me here in your mind

For awhile?

(Hidden away in the pocket of a daydream)

How much is too much to ask of you

I was hoping we could talk it through

Before you’re gone with the morning


Not sure I need to mention it but just to be safe: line five is from the Arcade Fire song No Cars Go, which is sort of what propelled this poem.

Poems · writing

Empty Space

I used to cry over the lines

At my ability to draw outside them.

Whether it was pen,

Crayon,

Marker.

My concentration would slip

A breath,

Hairline fracture,

And imperfection would strike again.

So why, after all that,

Do I find myself stuck

Wanting nothing more than to escape

Those lines I tried so hard not to break

Poems

Pumpkin Land

Feverish skin is reigning in

Cool nights start to tame the weather

It’s good to have this back again,

Autumn’s never a bummer.

Even when things are touch-and-go,

(Lost, apart, the “I don’t know”)

I’m able to find comfort in

The scents of fall, the color.

Deep orange,

Cinnamon hue

Toothy grins are carved into

Front-porch friends

Chocolates and,

These ghosts are friendly, now.

Our old memories go out to wander the town

Poems · writing

Talking to Myself

By the end of Sisyphus Part 4 I didn’t know who I was anymore

Ageless and nameless I melt in the rain

You’re doubting me, timing me,

Daring me to get up again

And is it any wonder when I do?

Do these failings still come as a surprise to you?

In a minute I’m busy.

Some thoughts they surround me

I’m barreling through the rain:

Waiting to be caught.

Wilting under and then growing into the pain

I’m finding you;

I’ll be home soon.

Look for me sighing,

Somewhere under the moon

Poems · writing

Apparition

I think of things that scare me

Sometimes in the dark of night

A scratching at the window

Is all it takes to switch on the light.

I creep around, keeping watch,

Making sure every bolt is safely locked.

I know it’s a silly notion,

Living on the third floor,

But

Sometimes still I imagine a shape,

Silhouetted beyond the balcony door.