spring 2019

religion

will not be contained within letters

it will not even be contained within me

religion                                       

in itself                            

can become containment if we allow it to be                     

       I've become a hollow religion                       

seeking the sanctity of hallowed ground                

I'm becoming an empty container

thinking that what I was meant to hold will save me

               stagnant

                            remnants

                                          cling to my walls

I hoard them jealously                                                                         

and don't understand                                                     

perhaps I did once

maybe I never have

SurRouNd

when I was young
Colors had Faces
letters had genDers
And spoons
Never got along with the forks

now
Now my emotions
Have feelings too
And when my pen
spills out
numbers
they tell me their life stories

4
Is my favorite number
Because she knows what it is like
To be told who she is
And 9
Will always be my CAMpfire villain
My water bottle Is a she
And she
Does not much care for tulips or birds
My pillow
Is a diVa
Who never gets her way

Months are Never just Days
days
Are slightly more than just dates
And when I spell out their names
Their letters greet each other i n d i v i d u a l l y
Before becoming the word as a whole

So

sO
So

So who am I to say I am never Alone
When every pEtal on my bedspread
Never Fails
To welcome me home

neither are nigh

I'm pulling from within

expecting something brilliant

I've forgotten

the universe is not as inseparable from me

as I am from myself

fear is a multifaceted eye

I'm afraid of ostriches and needles and words that don't mean anything
I fear windows I can't see through
hair loss and losing my teeth

I am not afraid of death

I am afraid of fire
choking lungs scorched skin eyes stinging and watering as if they could put out the fire themselves
as if they could mean anything

I am afraid of honesty
I cannot tell a lie

I'm not afraid of goodbye

I'm scared I'll die falling
that the ground will become a childhood swing and my uncle is pushing me so far into the trees
I could swear I was flying
only flying feels a lot like suspension
like disbelief
like doubt
I'm afraid I'll die falling because when the ground welcomes me home I'll spill my regret and my guts all in the same instant

I'm afraid of falling in love
reasons listed above

I'm not afraid of germs
not anymore

I'm afraid of words that were born in another's throat and still echo in my own
words that I regret
words that I'll never hear a sorry for

I'm afraid of apologies that don't make sense

I'm not afraid of God

I'm not afraid of dying
I am afraid of seeing the faces of my brothers at my funeral
I'm not afraid of goodbyes- I'm afraid of not saying them

maybe that's why I'm still alive
maybe that's why I lied
because I'm never not afraid\
that
at least
I'll take to the grave

to be seen is to be perceived

I'm not afraid of death
I am afraid of dying
I'm not afraid of eternity
I am afraid of the future

I'm afraid of relationships
I can't stand not to have them
love me
I beg
without knowing I exist

I pour myself into the distance between hello and goodbye

it is time to cut my strings and 

dangle 

from every branch I've ever broken

climbing trees

to a sky full of hope

grenade

I remember when you pulled the pin in our relationship

I weighed it in my hands
gave it back

walked away and tried to forget the fear in your eyes

now I wonder
if I'm a bad person for not allowing it to kill us both

this is not the haiku you are looking for: a Tanka of glass

Sun rattles the leaves

Reaching me behind the glass

I become the chill

In the room and it warms me

Far deeper than the sun could

insignificantly significantly significant

I am cosmically small. 
A tiny, insignificant speck of a girl lost to the rivers of time, helpless to the vast expanse of existence. 

And yet. . . I house thought, and heart, and spirit. 

My body is a beacon of billions of microorganisms. I do not understand my utter insignificance, but I attempt to, and isn't that significant? 

Today, I feel special as I look at the molded yellow walls of the bathroom. I feel important as my knotted curls drip water and conditioner. I could not change the rotation of the Earth if I tried, yet I am a part of the universe; That is significant.

After Image

Some part of me wants to be whole, however, my heart disagrees. My heart and my mind and my throat want to be erased. They want to disappear without a trace. To cease existing seamlessly. Balanced and beautiful in death. 

My tongue wants silence. Heady heavy silence. The kind that melts on your shoulders and stiffens your joints. My eyes, soulful soulless little creatures, want to talk. To convey through dance and sing through sorrow. 

I won't let them. 

I won't let them. 

I can't let them. 

Save my hands, that's all I ask. They alone have seen all I have done.

withered and dried

I feel as if I have somehow forgotten how to write. My vocabulary casts shadows in a barren wasteland. My metaphor has metamorphosed and died. I have no drive, no life, no will. Is this how it ends? My hands on the wheel, foot on the pedal and emergency brake on?
I'm empty. Straining for dust bunny verbs and adjectives that have faded in the sun. 
Nothing is won through my misery. All is lost in my hope.

5/25/19 1:21 PM

Wrack my brain of what remains 
Scattered splatters of dead dying thought 
Lost to the lock and chain of my fear 
Nothing is here between my ears 
I've burned every cell and swallowed the ash 
At last, reminded and reunited with what I have forgotten 
Kindle the coal, reignite my soul 
Dare not leave the barren plain of my home until I have bled my bones dry 
Memory bleached in the sun 
Remembered not for my deeds, but rather what I was to the eye

shallow water

Stagnant water is all I have become.
 A surface lost to my reflection.
What lies beneath that mirrored surface? 
That dusky dusty unmoving water? 
Do I dare ripple the pond, stir the seabed, release the river? 
I must, I must, or I shall eventually dry and die; ascend I say, and fill anew. 

My words make no sense, a jumble of rhyme and smudged ink.
Flowers heavy laden with dew. 

Disturb the glass surface of my mind. 
Treat my thought as clouds, lose my light to rain and time. 

I'm tired- only tired will not explain my formless shape in the sand. 
Exhaustion can only draw in breath for words that will whimper when released. 

Help me I cry, never in an order that is new, never in a way that is understood

the chill of a Happy graveyard

Every time I wish I was dead 
I write a little letter inside my head 
Of wishes and history 
Things better left unsaid 

Seldom do I find the time to rhyme 
These secret little thoughts 
Or allow them space to shine 

They're rather a selfish bunch I think 

For hoping for a day 

The world would be better if I stayed

baby mine

Sweet darling, cradled close

Darling angel, limp against my breast 

Blessed precious, your wide eyed gaze

 Affixed so gentle

Upon my face 

I am not a mother In that I did not bear you 

Did not feed you

I am not a mother in that you did not need me

When you first came to be 

I am a mother in the way that I weep 

For the years lost to us 

The tears you keep 

I am a mother in the way that to watch you breathe 

Releases the terror in my own lungs 

I am a mother in the way that I wait for you to die 

Praying only that it brings you peace

Bug Tanka

little bumbling bug

so busy doing his chores

why do you live bug

when you crunch quick underfoot

your life as fleeting as rain

multiverse maddy

according to the multiverse theory
there are places I've never seen never breathed
people I've met; never seen
worlds that I might be,
worlds I already have

a time in which I've died every day of every year
glancing over moments a thousand times over
counting seconds to minutes long passed

how does the universe handle me multiplied to infinity?
has she collapsed cracked bent beneath my million dreams?
run out of stars from wishes I send on blown away kisses?
does she stretch at the seams? stitch my heart on her sleeves?

another day another way another chance for me to be made anew
used, same lines over and under
looping on the script of my predictable lives
lies, I'll do it someday I swear I say
have I done it in world #2?

you would think with all my tries that I would have something to prove
lose, did I ever manage to hold on?
have my goodbyes replaced the meat on my bones?
am I the same person without my mistakes?

raise the stakes, heaven's gates have closed
worlds have grown heavy with the weight of my soul
lost, to the ravages of time
I've burned and lost count of the embers at my toes

are the scales ever balanced between the avenues of my potential?
am I ever good or evil or merely inconsequential?
be gentle, I plead, there are roses on the thorns embedded in my knees

please, smile and pretend with me
that the cities in my dreams are more than make believe
that I've achieved more than just one moment to be proud of
that bones are not all that I contain within
that fruitless tales are far from all my hands have wrought - brought, gifted, bestowed
my ribs have finally closed over the heart I begged them to free

but maybe it's just me

longing to be more than a girl in one world

painting closed doors over walls

telling myself that the one that opens is where I belong