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Category Archives: old discoveries

July 22, 1991 (why Valentine’s Day is not February 14) (#308)

I traveled
beneath the shell
of the white chaos
of single life
searching inside for
color and
quiet
but finding neither

Cupid
(the god of fate
and second chances)
took pity on me
and shot me with his arrow
that is
you

You spoke to me
in the language of kisses
and I found
the color inside
me
and the quiet inside
you

Now I feel no need
for Valentine’s Day
because the shell
that surrounds
me
is everyday
the voice of
you

 
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Posted by on April 6, 2016 in old discoveries

 

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#292

Talking with Krista

In an absurdist world
When you walk out of the room
You cease to exist
   I don’t see you
   I don’t hear you
   So there is no you
All that I have are quick time memories I cannot trust
Of a voice
Of a laugh
Of the shadow under a late night street lamp
And as years go by
Even those memories fade
Yellowing into dust

But the world is absurd in so many ways
The door to the room opens
And you walk back in
   I can see you
   I can hear you
   There is a you
   There is an us

But it’s a different us
We aren’t about who we were 15 years ago
But who we are now
Meeting for the first time
In bodies and minds that are vaguely familiar
And with voices that sound like someone we once knew

So the room is open
And the absurdity goes on
Whether we like it or not
And it’s time to figure out what this existence
This us
Means

If nothing else,
Thanks for opening the door again

 
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Posted by on August 28, 2014 in old discoveries

 

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#276

Jackal’s Cross

I dreamt of a cross
Empty
Except for two jackal’s faces
On the horizontal ends.
I stepped up
And fit the wood to my back
Trying to bring the Gods
Back to earth.
The jackals turned and looked at me
And smiled at my stretching arms.
In turn, I looked at the world.
Nothing had changed.
People passed by
Content with the view of others’ heels
And kicked up dust
That swirled by my face
Only to be swallowed by the jackals.
For a moment I felt immortal–
If only because I knew why they abandoned us.
I pulled my arms back in
And stepped off the Cross.
The jackals watched me walk away.

When I awoke
My arms ached
And a slight itch tickled my back.
But it quickly disappeared.

 
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Posted by on February 7, 2014 in old discoveries

 

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#274

Guerilla my dreams

She creeps through the grass of my eyes–
A guerilla with a knife in her mouth
Matching her breathing
To the rustle of the blades.
She lightly slips between
Strands of barbed wire
And skims over hidden traps (set long ago)
Without triggering them.
My alarm system fails me.
Eventually she reaches the open pasture
And it is too late for me.
Her knife has pinned me to her love.

 
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Posted by on February 5, 2014 in old discoveries

 

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#269

I run my fingers down the valley of your back
Following the dry river of your spine.
Each bone juts out
Like a dinosaur’s forgotten dream
Covered over with your skin.

Long ago
Glaciers must have moved here
To form this magical channel
That now
My tiny, human fingers
Discover.

 
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Posted by on January 31, 2014 in old discoveries

 

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#267

When I am younger…
(for Eric D. Nelson)

When I am younger
I will listen
For the singing of crickets
When the sun goes down.
I will dare
To jump rope in the front yard
Calling out
The names of friends.
I will sit in a grassy field
And wonder why the wind
Picks only certain blades
To dance.
I will pick a certain blade
And hold it between my thumbs
And whistle for the wind
To come dance with me.

When I am younger
I will turn over rocks
To find the secret life of worms.
I will carve my height
In the door frame
To measure my growth.
I will read myself to sleep
With a flashlight under the covers.

One day
When I am younger
I will stop
And hear my name
Whistled in the wind
To come dance
To come dance.

 
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Posted by on January 29, 2014 in old discoveries

 

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#266

In my mind…

In my mind
All that is poignant has died:
      the silence of the arrow
      as it listens to the wind,
      the starry reflections
      on a crow’s glass eye,
      the lonely strength of a cactus
      in a desert thunderstorm.
My mind has been surrounded
By the birth
Of talk show chatter,
The rainbow reflection
Of driveway oil slicks,
And the beeps of microwave popcorn

I have waited for far too long,
Waited for something I never recognized,
Something to appear bright and golden.
But now I am lost
With only the idea of sunlight remaining.

Yesterday I realized
There is someone out there
Who will dig my grave
And I started writing him a poem
But I could not see anything
Except the shovel and the dirt.

I could not even imagine his hands.

 
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Posted by on January 28, 2014 in old discoveries

 

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