I learned something very valuable over the last two months, poetry, words really, are an integral part of who I am as a person. When I do not feel like myself, I cannot find them, the words, like they are affixed to the real me, the pure me, the core me, and when that me is lost...well, so are his words. There was a two week period after surgery when I was just not myself, fighting to see daylight through the haze of anesthesia, fighting to gain clear thought while trapped in the cage of a hospital, fighting to feel an emotion that was stronger than the pain my body was feeling. In those moments, I lost me and with that, lost my words. Luckily, when I found myself, my words were happy to see me.
#MicroPoetry:
March - April (2012)
Still
The haze
Thick
Uninterrupted
I
Lost
Beneath
fog
Preventing
Complete
thought
I found your freckles
Softly exposed
Beneath spring’s sunshine kiss
They
Like your smile
Reflect silent personality
I
Beat
Loudly
THUMP-thump
resonates within inner ear
While
silent mind counts beats-per-minute
Proving
you excite me
You rode them like a jockey rides a
thoroughbred
Your fear of movement
Announced to the world
Via red light SOS message
I saw
them
Pre-parade
crazies
Green
haired and shamrock stickered
Pushing
carts filled with Leprechaun cookies
I took hungry bites
Allowing food to fill my mouth
While prayers still rested on my
lips
Tasseled
hair and librarian smile
You move
me with gentle fingers
Effortlessly
Wires
from limbs to horizontal control
I dance
on command
I never saw you until I felt you
Your cold hands always under my
undershirt
The ten finger tickle that made you
infamous
I dreamt
of you
Silent
and sweltering
Spread
out in sacrifice to early summer
Your
chest glistening as it rose with calm breath
Slept soundly
Cocooned by blankets and pillows
Drunk on exhaustion and fermented
fruit
Nose exposed
Cold
Dreams
Locked on childhood
Kids
clamber to find colored eggs
While
parents eat peeps with prayers on their lips
He has
risen
I want that comfortable feeling
Where we can tackle afternoons from
the couch
You laying on me in silence
I
remember when it was seedy
Before
the neon facade
Drunken
grab-ass and woo-girls
When the
music meant something
When it
was the pinnacle of each moment
Woke-up from old wood trembling
Found myself in an arcade
Paying pennies to watch peep shows
of us
Just stills and primitive movement
Reminding me of what it felt like to
be inside of you
Sunburn
months
Create
high-noon mirages
Images
of you with sand in toes and hair
Freckled
cheeks
Interrupted
by sunshine smiles
Covered
in youth
She said beauty and sadness
I paused to reflect on the
omnipresent pillars
On how they often reveal themselves
in tandem
On the beautiful smile of a sad-eyed
clown
You came
to me
When
rise and fall was calm
Steady
Rhythmic
You
hijacked moments not controlled by conscious thought
And I
welcomed the invasion
Oxblood on vintage linoleum
Morning shuffle's creaks and moans
Sit below the constant clack of a
restless search
She is
the exclamation point in my sentence
In her
absence
My world
is a series of dangling modifiers
Actions
affecting false objects
She danced between shadows
Stood there
Sunlight on her face
Seeking answers
He hid in dark corners
Hoping to remain unnoticed
Hands toward heaven
Hearing the same silent response
One thing that I love about this collection is the purity of thought. There is truly no external influence placing pressure on these words, as I haven't dated anyone during this time period, so the "she" and "you" is really my mind creating an ideal.
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