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Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point*

March 1, 2017 2 comments

Because I have swallowed silence
as perfect as a thousand empty forests,
all bark and no bird.

Because sometimes
I try too hard,
but I don’t know how
to stop—I don’t know
the curve of the word
less.

Because I am lost
and leave you breadcrumbs
in a place
no fool would ever follow,
not out of habit,
but out of hope.

Because I don’t know how
to ask the right questions,
so I say nothing.

Because I can say
I miss you
in three different languages,
and I love you
in five—one of which
uses no words.

Because I want
and that is the beginning
and end of everything.

 

 

*Title from Blaise Pascal.

Categories: poem, poems, Poetry, Uncategorized Tags: ,

the shape of things

February 23, 2017 1 comment

Let your bones
become a safehouse,
remember
that your sternum
is like armor for your heart,
but let it keep time
anyway, the tick
of truth against your ribs,
spine like a scaffold,
steady steel—
sometimes the shape of things
changes, sometimes
you soul breathes
like blown glass:
make art out of it,
every shatter,
every shadow,
every monster howling
in your stomach.

Because this is how you make a new world:
footprints in unfamiliar rooms,
uneven stitches, the rough kiss
of fog through old streets,
a constellation of stained glass,
one color for everything
you cannot bear to leave behind,
a garden full of winding grief,
a sky full of songs
that were once stars.

Categories: poem, poems, Poetry, Uncategorized Tags: , ,

Teachable Moments

September 10, 2015 Leave a comment

Explain how secrets
fall like snow, but no one
says a word. Every breath
of protest that forms in the air
vanishes, and there is nothing
to be done about the chill.

Tell me
what river runs through
your heart and how
the rapids feel at night. How
often are you drowning
from within? How many
oceans have you swallowed?

Describe
fear as a constellation. How many
vicious stars does it take
to make you forget the sky?
Why do you let
such false things
lead you home?

I want to understand
the science
of love, the kind
you walk away from, a ghost
given to the grave
without any fight. Bones
are so easily buried,
but I did not think you could
bury this.

Teach me
how weightless the heart is
when offered freely
and without teeth, like a soft
neck meant for kissing,
a vulnerable confirmation
of all the worst fears. Gravity
is every inch between us
growing smaller, but
I am starting to forget
the way wanted
unfurls, the way honesty
is a history lesson. Teach
me what I have meant
to you. Explain the theoretical
maybe of what might be,
not what is. I want
to understand you
and us
and this.

Categories: Uncategorized Tags: , ,

Enough

August 2, 2015 1 comment

Tell me our love story. Only, don’t use any words – just your mouth. Don’t you know that I’m tired of reading between the lines, finding fault in every unsaid syllable, blaming myself for all the consonants that aren’t quite right? Everything is nothing, until it isn’t. Nothing is everything, until something changes. I don’t care if it comes without warning, as long as it comes. Change. Something to hold on to. Even if it blows the world apart.

I lied when I said this was all I wanted. You must’ve known, must’ve understood. You always could feel the current of my heart. I never meant for either of us to drown in it, but here we are – waist-deep in chaos, trying to pretend that things are fine just the way they are.

It is what it is, and we are what we are. Only, we are more than we’ve ever dared and much less than we could be. I’ve stayed quiet for far too long. Minded all the manners I could tolerate. Walked a line so fine it often felt like razor wire. But that’s not what we were born for. Kisses aren’t circus tricks, and we are not here to entertain. Damn the crowds and all the crows – let the world have its fun. I have never been one of the maddening mob.

But I want to hear you say it. It isn’t too much to ask. The truth may be difficult and far-fetched, but every mirror in my heart shows you. I can do nothing to change the reflection, but I’ve always been brave enough to look, dead on. I’m tired of the way love sometimes feels like an apology, as if it needs to beg forgiveness for its own existence. We are not beggars. This is no last supper. This is no abandoned town made of ghosts. We are not memory. We are curved steel and a prayer made of passion – but I deserve to count the rosary of your bones without a backward glance. Without feeling the fire of your pulse pulling down the forest in your head, thoughts rising like too much black smoke. Darling, we are not made for destruction. But to truly build a new world, we need untied wrists and undone knots.

Begin by telling me our love story. Go on. Every inch of me is listening.

Categories: Uncategorized Tags: , ,

Uncanny Magazine’s Content Is Live

June 2, 2015 2 comments

Darlings, the second half of the May/June issue of Uncanny is up, for free, on the magazine’s website. So, if you wanted to read the rest of the content (YOU DO), you can. In particular, if you wanted to read my piece (YOU DO), wander over here: http://uncannymagazine.com/article/from-the-high-priestess-to-the-hanged-man/.

I hope you enjoy the magazine as much as I did. Every piece is absolutely gorgeous, and I’m beyond grateful to have been a part of it. That poem is especially close to my heart, and I’m so thrilled it found at home with Uncanny.

Categories: poem, Poetry, Writing Tags: , , , ,

without bones

April 13, 2015 3 comments

It’s never the time
or the place; we’re never
quite alone enough
to let go, hands like rivers
and mouths like deserts,
we are always thirsty,
we are, and we are not, enough.

There is no blueprint
for magic, but if there were,
it would look like your smile,
the way stars gather
in secret
when you laugh, and how
home curls up
in an afternoon
when no one is looking
for us.

Tell me
how the sky is a miracle
without any edges. Then,
give me your mouth
like a magnet, offer
attraction as extraordinary
evidence against the mundane –
there is no bottom
to this want, and somewhere
in the wild night,
a wolf howls, explaining
how rivers move
with a ferocious grace, quietly
unrelenting.

What I wouldn’t give for wings –
that is, time. That is, you.
Yes, this is the wrong moment
for anything called love,
but here it is, broken open
like a bad sentence, tender
and without bones – what will you do
with it? What will you do
for it?

Categories: Uncategorized Tags: , ,

miracle

March 13, 2015 1 comment

There’s still mud on my shoes
from the last miracle – a reminder
that things grow
in a mess, that to be real
is to be undone, drop
by drop, heart like a river
in a rainstorm: wild
but honest.

Your chaos is sweet,
a whirlwind salvation, love
that comes with a laugh
and the kind of smile
that is its own secret –
this isn’t luck
but I am lucky.

There are no locks
between us, just fire
and the way
our hands fit like keys,
you look at me
how spring turns the flowers,
and this is magic,
no ceremony, only
sanctuary.

This is a blessing,
all kisses and sacred hips,
water to wine
in a single afternoon, bodies
bent toward joy, an affirmation
that love is always a familiar skin,
and I want every inch
of everything, no holding back
and no hesitation –
I’m leaning in,
and so are you.

Categories: poem, Poetry, Writing Tags: ,