this here
this is only it
a bud
a flower
petals on the ground
each one as it happens
that is only it
Poetry
I’m working on writing a thousand poems. I started in April 2015.
Poem #809
little beetle
battles the wind
and the sand
to climb
a grit mountain
only to discover
a bubbling summit crater
at the top
Poem #808
Poem #807
the reason
modesty
is expected
is that if we
were to bare
our shoulders,
men would fall.
these shoulders
are magic.
an unfair
advantage
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Poem #806
Poem #805
if I could hop aboard your alien craft
right now
I would
the stars call me
into a euphoria of hysteria
I would leave, I would
I would
not a second thought
of the left behind
push past the atmosphere
and race out of their system
never has my brain felt so light
as it is in a vacuum
Poem #804
the poetry in my brain
is more than just words
one thousand thoughts
boiled down into one instant
one giant amalgam of meaning
that can’t be boiled down
into a stanza
or a page
one day, our poetry will encompass it all
it’ll be as frenzied and clear
and confusing
as walking an entire museum
accompanied by the audio tour
in a single moment
fast-forwarded and paused
full-color and blind
poetry but not a poem
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Poem #803
the reason I don’t recognize you
in pictures
is because you are not your body
that body is merely a convenient container
I could be blind
and still, you are beautiful
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Poem #802
the night is not complete
until in the 22nd hour
the train blows its horn
letting me know all is well and on time
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Poem #801 – eternal safari
I crack the window
my first breath of fresh air
at 6:28 pm
outside there’s a field and a horse
I stay inside
but it’s nice to look
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