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| The Girl of the Heart |
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| The Girl and the Castle |
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| A Peace in Anger |
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| Swallowed |
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Poetry: Sketch 137
Sketch 137
From the front seat
to Father driving,
Mother said,
"There are times in life
when you think everything's alright."
Then, from the back,
the kids piped up,
"Are we there yet?"
From the front seat
to Father driving,
Mother said,
"There are times in life
when you think everything's alright."
Then, from the back,
the kids piped up,
"Are we there yet?"
Poetry: Sketch 136
Sketch 136
"I think he loved me in his own strange way,"
Kaylee said as if she didn't love him in hers.
"I think he loved me in his own strange way,"
Kaylee said as if she didn't love him in hers.
Poetry: Sketch 134
Sketch 134
Ricky thought aloud,
"I'm afraid to be alone, but
alone is where I'm happy."
Erica pointed out casually,
"Ricky, you're afraid to be happy."
Sketch 135
She has a body,
a body of information.
I'm trying to read into her,
but I can't understand word.
Not a noun or verb,
so what's the action?
Ricky thought aloud,
"I'm afraid to be alone, but
alone is where I'm happy."
Erica pointed out casually,
"Ricky, you're afraid to be happy."
Sketch 135
She has a body,
a body of information.
I'm trying to read into her,
but I can't understand word.
Not a noun or verb,
so what's the action?
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Poetry: Sketch 133
Sketch 133
Twenty-five
and most boys have grown by then
but he still has a child living inside of him.
Twenty-five
and most boys have grown by then
but he still has a child living inside of him.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Poetry: Really
Sketch 132: Really and Truly
Really and truly
I have no clue
why to this day
the sight,
the sound,
and smell of you
still makes my heart jump
between nostalgia, anger, and paranoia.
It's not you
I mean, not the "you" you.
Only the image left behind.
You are fine. Most always were.
It's me, and I'm fine most always
until you appear in the oddest places
with the friends I call friends
friends who have more connection with you
than I do or probably ever did
and that saddens me, which angers me
(because I don't know how to deal properly with sorrow),
that what may have been was just hollow, hollow, hollow....
I should stop writing when I'm tired....
Maybe I can't let go.
Maybe I have and regret it.
Maybe it's because you seem fine without me.
Maybe it's because I missed an opportunity.
Whatever it is, I wish it would go
'cause I'm fine and so are you.
better apart than together
I wish we could be friends,
but as Zile said,
"Boys just make things awkward."
Really and truly
I have no clue
why to this day
the sight,
the sound,
and smell of you
still makes my heart jump
between nostalgia, anger, and paranoia.
It's not you
I mean, not the "you" you.
Only the image left behind.
You are fine. Most always were.
It's me, and I'm fine most always
until you appear in the oddest places
with the friends I call friends
friends who have more connection with you
than I do or probably ever did
and that saddens me, which angers me
(because I don't know how to deal properly with sorrow),
that what may have been was just hollow, hollow, hollow....
I should stop writing when I'm tired....
Maybe I can't let go.
Maybe I have and regret it.
Maybe it's because you seem fine without me.
Maybe it's because I missed an opportunity.
Whatever it is, I wish it would go
'cause I'm fine and so are you.
better apart than together
I wish we could be friends,
but as Zile said,
"Boys just make things awkward."
Poetry: A Song Is a Song Is a Song
Sketch 130
We always lose the ones we love
(to find that they have grown and so have we).
We always lose the ones we love
(to find what they've become is still worth loving).
Sketch 131
And we broke.
You, up.
Me, down.
Which meant,
all things said,
all things done,
you were right
(and I still can't admit it).
"We're on different paths
going different directions,
going separate ways." You said,
"You'll hate me now but thank me later."
Well, it's later now,
and I've yet to be grateful,
wishfully thinking:
Can we go back to being young?
We always lose the ones we love
(to find that they have grown and so have we).
We always lose the ones we love
(to find what they've become is still worth loving).
Sketch 131
And we broke.
You, up.
Me, down.
Which meant,
all things said,
all things done,
you were right
(and I still can't admit it).
"We're on different paths
going different directions,
going separate ways." You said,
"You'll hate me now but thank me later."
Well, it's later now,
and I've yet to be grateful,
wishfully thinking:
Can we go back to being young?
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