“Oh honey
you need a stool
They shouldn’t be making you stand
this long. Mhm, get you a stool”
A voice with
a curved back
that seemed to reach from her tiny shoes
and almost back to the floor again
said grinning
A red cloak and old, powdered brown face
Adorable, right?
“Yo, she just stole from the store”
What?
Right.
Adorable
People don’t always avoid eye contact
They look out
for old neighbors friends
a public reunion on transportation
when a fights breaks out
we all acknowledge each other
stuck in the thick
of the city
together
emery and alone
american woman you’re no good for me
chemical jacoa beans
whispers to me
my cheeks sanguine into a hot headed red
sometimes
i wish i were dead
but here i am living
and on the verge
all I can think of is his last words
playing in his hair while he tries
to write a new poem
to me
Happiness is fleeting and thrills misleading. Conjure me joy to ward off wailing agony. Lighten my heart with love to fight the world’s misery. Let me be me. Smiling down destiny
I carry with me,
the spirits of Queens
I carry with me,
the wake of Death
I carry with me,
all that I am
So that I will not be afraid
I’ve always wanted to taste the rainbow
listen to the wind
know what men are thinking
cure my skin problem with those around me
drink a little bit
Learn to jump double dutch
to trust that first leap of a heartbeat when he speaks
hate deeply
truly master an art
to fold towels properly
to listen again
Wax something
Grow something
Write the word write, right, and rite in a sentence
Hold onto secrets and let go of others
Figure out why line breakers and punctuation should be important in poetry
and then blissfullynotcare
Find something I can’t live without
someone I can’t live without
Dance
I haven’t been embarrassed in a while so I’m probably due
In the meantime, that’s just some stuff I wanted to do.
On a roof in the Old City
Laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight:
the white sheet of a woman who is my enemy,
the towel of a man who is my enemy,
to wipe off the sweat of his brow.
In the sky of the Old City
a kite.
At the other end of the string,
a child
I can’t see
because of the wall.
We have put up many flags,
they have put up many flags.
To make us think that they’re happy.
To make them think that we’re happy.
–Yehuda Amichai, translated by Stephen Mitchell
story of life
surrounded in darkness under the sky. the moon and sun intertwined. i hum a wish to the passing eclipse. and hope i always have someone to share them with
The world tumbles
like leaves falling to the ground
Trees sway
Hold onto me now before winter takes you away
our love, an evergreen
strong and ever lasting
can delay the dead forests of reality
and keep the hurt at bay.
The Poetry Corner 