Spring, part one and two
I stopped posting poems on here because for whatever reason, they’re usually weird and cryptic and…what have you. But it’s spring, and I wrote these in winter, in preparation, and wanted to share.
Spring, Pt. 1
We were stupid to take sidewalk chalk. Drawing a map of the world on the roof, we discovered the earth was flat as we walked to the coast and fell three billion stories I’ve wanted to write but am waiting on endings. And it happened. So it goes, went, became; there are reminders on my shoulder blades though we mustn’t remember every frame is neatly stacked on this street corner, the lamppost giving them life after dusk. A deep night I want you to sit on your heels and exhale with a clean lung, steady hands. I’m looking for the face I don’t want to see, I’ll move. Foot on the gas, plane, pedal, leaving creatures on platforms to stuff themselves in boxes. If patience is a virtue I am already divinity, waiting for the mane that stands above the gods.
Spring, Pt. 2
I threw the shoe across the room and it crossed oceans.
It never sank, the sole and everything.
And I’m loved and loving in these waters, tying laces, loose ends.
I’ll have another drink. You’ll smoke a pack whenever we remember.
Climbing into cabs: marred, never nearly touching.
Now I’m making double knots, for the shoe fits. And I’m walking east for once.
And when cherry blossoms bloom, Bedouin dress and all —
all things are all right.