Your song arrives from far away with no signs of distress. It was a surprise. I did not know that you had my address. I had to sign for it. It’s good that I was in. You never know when something like that will come your way again. I took it out, I tried it on to see if it would fit. I spent at least a day or two familiarizing myself with it. It says that you are happy. It says that you are well. It says one or two other things that few people think to tell. Having sung it once or twice, it seems to suit me fine. Almost to the point where I sing it as if it were mine.
Tag: verses
poem – Ghosts
You never know what kind of ghosts you are going to meet. Some only come out at night. Some are less discreet. Some fade into the background. Some feed on our fear. Some are like objects in the mirror. They are closer than they appear. Some mess with the temperature. Some rearrange the shelves. Some of them get so bored they start to haunt themselves. Some of them keep their distance. Some try to earn our trust. After a while some of them start to look like us.
poem
until
we are
dreaming
the same dream
until
we are
on the same page
i will
keep at this
i will
continue
to write
and revise
until
i get it right
poem
This is what we do. We clean up. We sing like strangers. We open a window now and then for advice. We change paths when they lose their way. We bargain for one more hour of light. We make our wounds less noticeable. We find a dream that fits. We exchange glances that don’t. We get smooth. We get covered up. We fall away and come together. We get it right now and then. We get reckless for a while. We clean up again.
poem
i sing
for the dreamers
who never once
closed their eyes
and for
all the lovers
who have no use
for disguise
for those
who became legends
without so much
as goodbye
for all of
the saviors
who never once
called in favors
and for those
who are strangers
in spite of the dangers
of being unknown
for so long
you all
have a place
in my song.
poem
in a climate of hunters we became prey. out in the headlights we lost our way. did you not see the signs. did you see the threshold. once we were crossed, we forgot we were bold. time was much louder then. as were we. could nothing restore what we meant to be. no escape. no remorse for our public display. living. working. dreaming. the hunters are on their way.
poem
this is
where i am today
not beyond
or between words
though they may
seem too small
they contain me
just as you do
and yet
i take as much space
as i can
and yet
you expand
until I am gathered
safely in
dreaming of
new words
to contain you.
