Friday, March 19, 2010

to Daniel with care

to Daniel with care

I finished my journal-
a year of thought in a back pocket.
Its end is the dusting of February flakes.

I leave footprints.
In this and the next,
both bound in black and seeped with blue.

Blue so dark it's mismatched black.
Because I stare out windows
to diamonds covered in snow.

I welcome the cold.
It's familiar and comforting,
but I want you to see.

We are but manifested emotions
and I am most assuredly freezing.


to Bill

the shaking of fingers over obsidian keys
reminds me of my inadequacies
my caffeinated jitter is not the result of the soda,
but of the jolt of emotion I felt when my phone vibrated six times.

his call to me was a heightened emotion
that gave credence to the bull ring attached unnaturally to his nose.
Reds surrounding, my steam was all but visible when I began to sob.

You were a hug.
You were blurred jade eyes full of unwarranted  concern.
You were not understanding but understanding I need.
I need, when bloodshot eyes confuse city lights for fireflies,
to feel something is still solid- the proper combination of atoms
making mass. That something is solid, and carrying
me through the mess.

my heart tapped me on my shoulder and whispered in my ear

which is how the night started
in a room across from home.
The K's tried to win a round
from a stance of plain unknowing,
which meant nothing to the seriousness
of their opponents calm throwing.

I cared not to play
save for Daniel's carefree dancing
and E and B were just a fit
of amusing teammate fighting.

Fighting. I am fighting
an undefined category of more adult feeling.
I know that I am not unhappy,
but I do not know, concer to Spanish,
the feeling that we define as happy.

But if this is what it is,
feeling free to display feeling.
Then, I think I can do happy.

I think I can live happily.
When a world of bright lights
on curtained hardwood stages
is vacillating between being safe and tumbling
the scintilla of hope contained
in my uncategorized responses
is supported only by friends
who are closer than I imagined.

I gave effort to looking
straight into Bill's eyes,
but entropic tears blurred
already clouded sight.

Fingers trembled in inch long hair
and then he hugged me.
Apoyar- to support.

Amor is to love,
Romantic in Spanish.
In English to love
is being fully supported.

Monday, March 15, 2010

SBST '10 (her eyes make the stars look dull)

It was Tuesday.
We ran outside. The stars
were bright in the crisp Wyoming air.

Friday came.
She was sad.
He was angry.
We were disappointed.
She checked out.

I don't know what happened,
but an eagle flew by as we drove out,
carrying our prayers to heaven.

Dear God, can we make it?

SBST '10 (Hydrate, man)

Hydrate, man

Hydrate, man.
Fill your emptiness with cheap thrills
and easy girls- guys too if you want it.

Hydrate, man.
Let yourself be so full of your
own thought and of your convictions.

Hydrate, man.
Fill your time with fake conversation
and superficial friends.

Hydrate, man,
but when you want to be fulfilled
remember to pour yourself out.

SBST '10 (4)

There was feeling tonight.

They say that you cannot forget
your first love, but I don't know
if that is true. I have yet to love.

But I have lived.
In living I have felt
and there was so much to feel tonight.

I felt them close to tears,
and I remembered the warmth
of salted water on my cheeks.

I felt their joy
and I lost myself to tribal music,
drums leading my feet.

I felt their smug attitude
and ignored it to supplement my mood-
pensive but not notably so.

I felt his agitation,
it reminded me that we all feel.

Then I remembered that I hate feeling.
I hate feeling vulnerable.
I hate feeling open.
I hate feeling judged,
but I need to be judged to love.

SBST '10 (3)

there's an aura about her
akin to the glow that surrounds a candle.
It starts bright and moves to illuminate
all those around it.

I think it starts in her eyes-
sincere emotion thinly veiled behind green,
she reaches out to touch everyone near her.

She is a ripple in a pond.
We are a disturbance too.
Everything we do will move.
We are an action; there will be a reaction.

SBST '10 (diamond)

We sit in a diamond and
a diamond is a person-
the center, the heart.

We sit in a square
because we care. In this place
this group is my drum.

It beats. We beat.
Each thought, each word,
is a pulse, a pull
at my heart.

Meaning that I care and
for this week, this time,
this group is family.

SBST '10

this post and the next 5 are all results of my service trip

Marty rests on a couch too short
for his body. It's a noble sacrifice
that almost makes up for his fall.

The others are close to sleep.
I know it's not yet time to dream.
I opt for animal crackers instead.

Snacks reminiscent of days past,
when hikes were commonplace
and adventure was my backyard.

I think I'll find that again.
Here, where mountains stand
majestically lining a tundra painting.