a compilation of random crap? mostly to even it out, because april had 23 blog posts, and so far may has like 8. and most of them are meaningless. (as is this, but shhhh, it's a secret.)
+++
it doesn't take much
to inspire jitterbugs
when you're drunk or high on
too much apprehension
but i'm feeling life vicariously
like this was scripted
but i didn't write it
and my best role
was never director,
they must have been joking
when they said,
"give her the lead,"
because i'm no actress either.
i'd rather be the villain
to your empty novel.
only the president reserves
the right to veto,
so i said yes
in three different languages
maybe they wouldn't agree to
a stage presence based on misunderstanding
but affirmative means all-go
no matter who you are
so i'm sorry for becoming
the protagonist
+++
i was never one to
play up
my lack of coordination
so i thought perhaps
you'd mistake my stumbles
for ballroom,
and when you did
i fled
like mouse to hole
gopher to ground
poltergeist to closet
i've only ever been
the one in pursuit,
when they ask me why i run,
i sometimes wish
to say it's how i remember
how to breathe
and this chase
has started to suffocate me
but air is for logicians
and those who play safe
i have enough fear
for everyone,
twice over,
but if you really think
i'm brave
maybe i'll learn how
to dance
+++
i have always known
that being good at this
means forgetting how
to write about myself.
we all choose things
with which to hide our scars,
but my makeup remembers
those days i could only pretend
it was necessary
i am unlearning self-fulfillment
through words
i am tired of looking out
for me.
so i don't know where you sleep
or if you cry before you do,
i am just sure
that if i deserved
any merit for this ink
(and trust me i don't)
my vocabulary would be so big
i would know which syllables to use
for you to see you
as clearly as i wish
i had the courage
to reflect myself
i will not pretend today
i am writing this
for any other reason
than my conscience's comfort
but i have taken to convincing myself
that i wish to
because empathetic means little
when followed by a self-portrait
but my pen is itching to be free
of my fingers and
their fortresses.
this is not for you,
but God help me
if i didn't wish it was.
+++
i am too busy
being concerned
to care that this
is the perfect model,
i never wanted this
to be
how i got
my practice
or
'skill'
but i guess there's
no such thing
as unbroken art
the question lies
in the depth
of the shadows
i feel punished
for feeling things
too strongly
it's in my chemistry
i know you
aren't deaf,
you put that in
my blood!
i must have an
obsession
with justice,
i am convinced
that i am owed
a little fairness,
"Jesus paid it all
all to him
I owe..."
apparently,
faithfulness has
its expenses,
so call me
a diplomat
and call this
negotiation.
+++
for all of the words of the bible
I think are true
most days heaven
sounds to me
the way I imagine
a refugee camp
sounded to my Nepali friends
who live down division
nine and a half months ago
before they spoken English,
an escape,
something safer,
but not home.
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2 comments:
all I can think of to say is that if I had never met you (which would be terrible) and all I had to know of you was your poetry, I would think you were amazing purely upon its merit.
but I'd be pretty sad if I didn't know you.
basically I mean that I really liked all these poems
and that last one reminded me of Jack Gilbert
look at Mark, always trying to bring up Jack Gilbert.
It reminded me more of Robert Frost,
good Robert Frost.
y'know, those three poems? :)
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