sit with me
gaze into space
can you hear
the stars embrace
stay with me
on the bridge
blankets up
to the edge
of our faces
of our chins
breathing places
we’ve never been
I know, I know you
I know, I know it’s hard
the meteor may never come
but there are songs yet to be sung
the meteor is slow to fall
but you and I talk through it all
take in
the night sky
as it bows
its head to cry
walking past
the morning birds
they understand
how much it hurts
to know you can’t
go back and change
who you were
or who you hurt
I know, I know you
I know, I know it’s hard
the meteor may never come
but there are songs yet to be sung
the meteor is slow to fall
but you and I talk through it all
I know it’s sad
but I’m here
I know it’s sad
but have no fear
we’ll lift up
our heads tonight
and won’t look back
on who we might have been
I know, I know you
I know, I know it’s hard
the meteor may never come
but there are songs yet to be sung
the meteor is slow to fall
but you and I talk through it all
the meteor may never come
but there are songs yet to be sung
the meteor is slow to fall
but you and I talk through it all
Tag: poem
Kyoto
for my dad
The stones that we left there are calling to me
Have they grown into boulders? Or rolled to the sea?
It’s a myth, oh father,
that we carry these stones
But the memory heals us,
so we’re no more alone
You show me the water splashed up on the stones
You bring out the beauty in Earth’s grey-green bones
It’s a myth, oh father,
that we carry these stones
But the memory heals us,
so we’re no more alone
So we’re no more alone
Breathe
mug of tea, you sit there so silently
you make it look easy
to simply be
maple tree, bending in the breeze
you seem so happy
you seem so free
I’m not looking for much – just a little relief,
just a hunger for touch.
And a place I can breathe,
a place I can be happy.
river wide, taking life in your stride
you have nowhere to hide
where do you go to cry?
winter ice, preserving the night
you seem so calm inside
where do your traumas lie?
I’m not looking for much – just a little relief,
just a hunger for touch.
And a place I can breathe,
a place I can be happy.
I’m not looking for much – just a little relief,
just a hunger for touch.
And, as I stand by this dream,
I finally can be free.
Dream
childhood dream place
wings and moss in abundance
light shining through us
Pretty
A set of haikus
fuck pretty, fuck that
aesthetic jail cell, fuck that
Polaroid Pretty
fuck pretty, fuck that
forced Magazine smile, fuck that
Commercial Pretty
fuck pretty, fuck that
advertised face cream, fuck that
Expensive Pretty
fuck pretty, fuck that
scrutinized body, fuck that
Controlling Pretty
fuck pretty, fuck that
mutilated hair, fuck that
White-Centric Pretty
fuck pretty, fuck that
endless worrying, fuck that
Insecure Pretty
fuck pretty, fuck that
manufactured worth, fuck that
Man’s Choice Pretty
fuck pretty. We’re done
We’re done downplaying our hurt.
We’re done being small.
We need our bodies.
We need our love more than you.
We deserve our strength.
Fuck Pretty. We are
not here for your enjoyment.
We are for our joy.
On the Bedside Table
I have all these books
on my bedside table that
I never read, but…
On Rage
quiet rage
beginning to announce
her speechless marriage
sweeping through, screaming
their Names
dancing then, after
only after
only after
On Crossroads
what’s that thing you said,
nestled beneath the branches?
“I am sure of us.”
Socks
are the only thing keeping
me from falling apart
!
One small barrier
(between me and the world)
:
The one thing
that separates me from the dream.
My
dreams were preferable
to this
.
Much softer and filled with
more desire.
May
there is a time to rest
among the soft flowers
[they exist
whether you are there
or not]