time

17 May

 

i am what i am where i am today

because of who i was when i was what i was

back then.

but today –

today, i am different just the same way

tomorrow will be different

because of today.

 

Lionel-Smit-Merge5-300x300.jpg

artwork by lionel smith.

untitled. #63

4 Jun
today i just realized 
that you can’t actually touch the sky,
that it is at least one part illusion.
 
and i want my heart back.
 
i want to separate myself,
detach.
unknot.
unfriend.
unlove.
 
i want my heart back.
 
it’s just air.
and what is that?
 
i want my heart back.
 
 

untitled. #63

4 Jun
today i just realized
that you can’t actually touch the sky,
that it is at least one part illusion.
and i want my heart back.
i want to separate myself,
detach.
unknot.
unfriend.
unlove.
i want my heart back.
it’s just air.
and what is that?
i want my heart back.

love, in the key of “human”

15 May

the moon and venus dance.

the moon
slowly sprinting – still
on his knees.

and venus,
stretching
but safe – still
sitting close to the sun.

it is gravity who remembers
the human has a heart
that beats
love, sometimes
almost to death,
almost to pain
tolerated,
endured, anticipated.
eager, erratic temperatures,
that scare seeds into silence
afraid of their own words,
of feeling.
the sort of evils that strangle
wings.

everyday, more,
flight defies her.

the moon abandons
his gravity,
venus leaves
her feet.
they smile spinning
into their crashes,
eyes touch familiar faces
mouths meet trusted tastes of fresh breaths
welcomed
from a past life’s prayer.

their stars acknowledge them –
and know.

they are not of the universe
the universe is of them.

unicorns, mermaids and me…

14 May


i must have been 4.  he was probably 13 – the son of my parents’ friends.  i had a crush on him.  i went upstairs while our parents were in the kitchen, and passed the room he was sitting in as i headed for my bedroom.  but then he called me in.  i got butterflies.  i sat down across from him – he was lying on his side, leaning on his elbows, legs stretched out.  i was wearing a mini skirt, sitting indian style – i didn’t know that this meant that he could see up my skirt.  i didn’t expect him to begin reaching his foot between my legs.  “you like that?”  i didn’t, not particularly.  not that i remember.  but i liked the attention.  or, i liked the fact that he was paying attention to me.

in elementary school, i remember doing my own thing.  going on adventures, and singing songs i wrote to the unicorns that visited me in my back yard.  i remember being in the first grade and telling everyone a story about the bubble fish and the mermaid who used to live in the river that sat behind our school.  the kids didn’t want to believe me, but i swear it – the more i told the story, the more they started to.  and so i kept telling it.  whenever i could get someone over there, i would tell it.  and i started to believe it, and dream about her.  and the fish – it was so real.  running through the fields, trying to get to her, falling – the dream always ended right before the pain.
mermaids are odd, and beautiful.  genuine, and special.  that’s why the bubble fish are mean the way they are, so quick to use their fangs.  they aren’t hateful, really – it’s just that they care so much for the mermaid.  love comes out all wrong sometimes, when you try to protect it.  and so the bubble fish sit underneath the ground and surround the river where the mermaid lives.  if you walk near the river, you’ll feel the bubble fish like mini hills all over the ground.  if you’re not careful, and you walk too close to the river’s edge and step on a bubble, you’ll pop it.  the fish will jump out and bite you.  
 
piranhas protecting the mermaid who lives in the river, and sings.  they do not belong to her, i’m not even sure she knows they are there.  but she never asks them to leave, and its almost like her songs are for them.  
i used to hop from one small area of flat land to the next, and scare myself when i fell onto a fish’s bubble.
 
that’s the kind of kid i was.  i lived in my head.  dreamed all day.  i painted the world in black and white rainbows.  i held onto my summer evenings thinking they literally carried promises. and i believed that every single star belonged to someone.   everyone was special.  including me.  
i think i woke up the next day with tears in my eyes.  

cacoon

6 Feb

i imagine that if a caterpillar
spent her life watching her brothers and sisters
grow up,
and leave home
to crawl into shells
that look like clouds wrapping wings around their bodies
so exciting, so awesome
and that if she saw them a time after
different – better, wiser, as butterflies
and then one day  she finally found herself
in one of those longed for shells that look like clouds,
and realized that after a time
she was
still there,
that it feels like this.

i’m sure that she would ask,
just like me,
how long does it take
for one to be?

waiting.

16 Jan

an alarm signaled a fire.

i am running,
but my feet are passing me
and my heart
stayed
behind me
and i am
in between
doors and darkness
waiting
for god
to speak.

 

Illustration by Martin O'Neil  (www.cutitout.co.uk)

Illustration by Martin O’Neil (www.cutitout.co.uk)

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