that's mrs. mediocrity to you

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AugustMoon2013:

If you had one wish – guaranteed to be fulfilled by the end of 2013 – what would it be?

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That you, yes you, the one who says I just want something to be real, would go and sit beneath an ancient tree until you weep with the joy of your own insignificance. Yes, the joy of it.

That you, yes you, the one who says I’m afraid of being unaware of absence, would go outside on the darkest of nights to look for the moon (which won’t be there) and instead get a glimpse of the Pleiades, which can only be seen from the corner of your eye.

And you, the one who says I want to be authentic, look at your hands, right now, any now, and hold them up to the light, any light. If you cannot see through them, then you are as authentic as anyone has ever been.

And you, yes you, the one who says I am lost. Look into your heart. There are flowers growing there, right now.

Bloom.

Wonder.

Wander.

Breathe.

::

Wish.

::

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This post is part of AugustMoon2013. You can find out more about the project here.

movement is what captures your attention

i fly away (in crooked lines)
to dance amongst the pleiades
and their ancient choreography
of hide and seek

i am dust

always there

visibly invisible

one clear tear
containing more
than this river
of flight

i can’t ask you
to understand
my fluttering

i can’t stay still
long enough
to burnish sanity
opaque

my universe is trite and monumental

i name it tree
and you laugh
with the music
of lost moonlight

i am a sliver
beneath your skin

festering for freedom

you name me calliope
and refuse to remove me

this is the seed
of remembrance
growing petals
of forgotten

i am blind and you are hollow

each night i fold
a dozen paper birds

and at midnight i listen for your drum

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Linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night – join us!

and now you walk bare shouldered
down a road that has no secret

no curve or twist to make you wander
as you form new blisters and
sweat gallons of yester
days
into this insatiable sand

the signs all say keep walking
and so you stop
drink air from empty pockets
wishing you’d remembered
the only book you’ve never read

and

the sun never was your friend
even though you held its warmth
on ten thousand days of skin
and horizon is the same
as ever after

your bones always knew
the way to cave and
dancing flame

but you passed by
the mouth of silence

screaming

i see you best

in the silent synergy

called darkness

.

your light reflects

some long lingering vestige

of twilight

.

i cup your face

in palms of simple portent

seeking warmth

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

i leave you snoring on the couch
and wander off into other people’s stories

i call it escape and you have no idea
what i’m talking about

or why i envy your ability to sleep through
your own hurricane

and i wonder where you go in your dreams

some noisy bar
or a cave so deep
no sound can crawl inside

i can’t stop listening

my heart knows that somehow
this is your story

we speak different languages
and these hieroglyphics of sound
will remain here, on these walls

an echo of ordinary chaos

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

i’ve been holding back tears for weeks
playing strong and grown up and
capable
(a word that always hunts me down)

last night the world broke me
(again)

the floodgates opened
and i stood in the rain so no one
would notice

tears fell to earth
ran down rivers
rushed to the ocean

(earth’s gravity bowl
for mother’s tears)

i want to gather my babies
and build a big bonfire

cook them promises and
protection bake them dozens
of hope-filled tomorrows

i want to sit beneath the stars
and see their eyes fill
with something other than
confusion

i want ghost stories and
huddled together whispers
about fears they need not be
afraid of

i want this storm
to cry itself out
cleanse our wounds
carry us all out to see

i am hungry for a rainbow

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

Also linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night

and i write poems in my mind as you
breathe not so silently beside me
in a darkness whole
and beautiful except
we choose to crack it with
electricity and fairy promises
and silence isn’t the same as black
and goodness isn’t the same as light and
you know all these things with the peace
of good sleep and i lay here awake
words swinging through my
mind in a bellicose beacon
and you would think
protection
but i am drawn to those shores
and these rocks will break me

.

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

i want to pull an alice and dive into a mirror
surely life looks different from the other side

backwards and cockeyed and filtered through
lint left on the surface or smudges stamped
by florid fingerprints and the brittle bones
of everyone who’s ever touched you

always lit like a window in an opulent dream
this place where everyone wears dresses
and no one ever thinks to ask your name
loneliness is a hamper and heartache
is eternally for breakfast, served over easy

with tea, of course

i want to talk to prepubescent butterflies
smoking peace and posturing philosophy
aces and spades kings and queens grinning cats
roses that bloom and bleed and bloom again
always late all this hate always late

shadows are made from silence turned sideways
and music is the way your mouth moves
time is a harness on the horse of hardship
dragging hard on the carriage of comfort

and i am the queen who wants to be whole
but no one hears me in here, knocking

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

there are days
months
even years

when life circles around one word
everything you do and think and feel and see
somehow finds its way back to you in
this same combination of line and shape
picking and choosing each step carefully
watching out for the trap of A
the tail of Q
the slithering snake of S

this word will always come home to you
even if you don’t want it
or like it
or imagine it tattooed on an ankle
just in the spot where a shackle would hide it

you tuck it under your tongue
where it rolls around
in a constant struggle to
announce
your infidelity
your use and abuse
of all those other words

the ones that don’t belong to you

this word refuses to be swallowed

catching in your throat and
haunting you
taunting you
with threats to expose

your silence

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

i have seven mirrors in my house and they all
tell the same story

but none of them is true

i drink tea and water and wine
and then you remember

we have not eaten

hunger fills the dark with daydreams
and i open a window so we can listen

to the emptiness of fortitude

you turn your back to me and
shift position to look

for a moon that has not risen

hours later you are asleep and i see her
reflection in the looking glass of silence

but i don’t wake you

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

Also linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!