respite on the sea
if only boats could decide
which way our bow points
Road Trip Haiku #13
respite on the sea
if only boats could decide
which way our bow points
choices
Road Trip Haiku #9
coin in gold fountain
M’s futile Central Park wish:
let us go to Spain
Road Trip Haiku #6
Friday the 13th
rain to wash away the drought
can it wash my tears?
Interstate 70
a drought has plagued
Kentucky’s usually green grasses
(driest year in recorded history)
so far we’ve racked 4000 miles
on a car that doesn’t belong to us
escaping our own drought
wildfire smoke trailing behind us
along interstate 70
the puffy white wisps
of burning forests
whose beetle-bitten trees
can have peace in heaven
are no comparison
to the sunless sky
on a drought-starved day
when showers won’t stop
and renewal bounces
across horse fields
and wet pavement
as if this is a new tomorrow
can i swallow this rain
can i bury my face
in a bed of furious clouds
and turn my inner drought
inside out so that i can feel
my roots take hold of new life?
i can’t see beyond the greasy
rainsoaked windshield
to find the answer
i left somewhere
along interstate 70
Brooklyn
he says it is a woman
but i know it is New York
if he had its blood burned
into his childhood
he would understand
just as my girls
who argue with him
about the name of the song
and count exit signs
along the interstate
we will be there soon
we will be there soon
we will walk across that bridge
and enter a new dimension
of the city we all know
as we close our eyes
and dream a new version of life
just like my great-grandfather
(the one i never knew)
who pulled my frail and tiny
great-grandmother across the sea
and saw the glorious light
of the Empire State
he will see
they will see
(when we walk across that bridge)
just how beautiful
a new life can be
I and Love and You
I and Love and You by The Avett Brothers
a year ago
a lifetime ago
i stood on this same step
i rang this same doorbell
i retrieved these same girls
i hardly knew you
i stood awkwardly
in your living room
trying to explain my taste in music
you cringed when i said folk
(perhaps you’d cry too
the first time you
heard their song on the radio)
we’ve made music since then
sometimes heavy metal
sometimes hip hop
just a taste of alternative
but you still haven’t heard my song
i stand on your doorstep now
you won’t answer so i walk in
(it is like home to me)
i pull them out of the room
three in a row, sleepy-eyed,
begging for breakfast
(they are starving)
you open your door
sleepy-eyed too
and there are no words
there are no lyrics
that can fall to the floor
in this awkward living room stance
as i shuffle our lives out the door
Infiltration
i am infiltrated with imagery–
a small town upbringing
infused with adolescent inner city,
torn apart by the desire for more
the desire to make more
out of this oh-so-short life
like drones we clock in, clock out
stay in the same place
and never put our lives on the line
for a new awakening
i put it here now
to step out of Big Brother’s reach,
yet he still watches my every move.
i feel his shadow behind me
mechanically moving my arms,
tearing away my emotions,
like being put in the room with rats
will i step out into the new world,
suck on the bitter gin
and tell him how much i love him
while my soul lies dead
inside my robotic body?
or will i find the forest
–the escape route–
and become the person
i always dreamed i’d become?
Safe Harbor
without your calm love
i couldn’t weather this storm
you are my harbor
Beginning, Middle, End
let me tell a story.
it will begin with 25 hours
of uploading documents,
calling colleges,
begging for recommendation letters,
watching my perfect English writing
get butchered into
fucked-up Spanish by Google Translate,
sealing it all up a month in advance,
and moving on with my life
(mostly indifferent)
it could begin with
my 19-year-old dream,
thousands upon thousands of dollars
poured into a degree
i always hoped to utilize
upon its fulfillment
in the middle:
i’ve lost count of crying sessions–
my tears are too deeply rooted on my face
for anyone to really see them (me).
maybe i could find them in the house
i’ve spent a month packing
into one tiny room,
or in the resignation paper
where i signed my life away,
or in the credit card statement
i will never be able to pay back
in the end:
i could be here,
homeless, jobless,
relentless in my pursuit
of everything i thought i wanted,
when all it took
was putting it all on the line
to realize that line
should never be crossed
Lighting Up My Lake
the sun beats its way into summer
and simmers along the shore.
all i see are sparkles
brighter than diamonds
lighting up my lake,
my little girls piling
watery sand on my
abandoned-nail-polish feet,
hazy mountains in the distance
popping under bright blue sky,
my Colorado begging me to stay
but i know, i know,
their sand-castle grins
captured in my shitty lens,
that i will be home,
we will be home,
as long as we’re together
Step Write Up 