when you look at words long enough, you realize they mean. i am.
—Neil, unpublished poem
he was peter
and i his wendy
telling stories
of horse rides with cranes
of nursing babies
of watering gardens
and petting cats
stir me with wind
gathering like storms
setting water droplets
upon air, like breath.
call me beetle bright
oil slick remembered
momentarily still.
i’m nothing words
and all the words
and you’re still here.
gather me in a basket
to set upon a table
and i’ll sing for you.
i’m a shadow witch
pinned to pavement
perpetually sweeping
where others freely walk.
made of uneven gravel,
i hide twisting stone
roots, withering debris,
and buried love. i’m afraid
of forgetting your sky,
nestled clouds, how eyes
shine through fog. i’m
a nervous dog barking
behind a fence, a coyote
chasing grassy shadows.
i’m a worm wiggling
toward fresh rain
hoping i’ll be
understood.
*80/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. All photos are mine.
cobalt time capsule
french darling of mine
bring me grandmother’s youth
her dab behind the ear
fresh moonlight caught
a lover in a felt hat
call me darling, dove
baby, oh baby
books tucked into leather
heels on wet cobblestones
descending into dark blue
bottle me the sweetness
of starting over again
someone ate my baby carrier
my handheld tape recorder
those faded brown cowboy boots
the pink fuzzy case of CDs
a pile of watercolor hearts
that sunflower babydoll dress
ate all these pieces of me
repeating under their breath,
keep moving forward
keep moving forward
but it’s hard to walk
with so much missing
*74/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. All photos are mine.
you used to come mewing
whenever i stepped outside—
a neighbor’s cat
who claimed my space
don’t yell at me
i see you just fine
from your perch
maybe i’m tired
or forgetting self
but don’t yell at me
sometimes train whistles hold hands,
warming palms.
preheating cast iron to cook eggs,
when bodies dream of pancakes.
you’ve been here before
i’ve seen you
hiding behind the stones
hands filled with shells
feet covered in sand
laughing with the wind
our shadows danced
two merging into one
a forgotten fish
a billion bubbles blinking
small words made clear
you’ve been here before
i’ve seen you
stay
