Well, I’ve once again decided to start writing on a more regular basis. It was spurred by a conversation between myself and a close friend during which we shared a lot of the poetry, prose, and more that we have written in the past. That is not to say that I think my writings are going to be anything substantial and outstandingly insightful. I just feel that is time to begin recording my thoughts. If all goes according to plan, this journal will become a record of the things I think, hear, see, and more. Some poetry here and there. Maybe a few short stories. We’ll see. But I invite anyone who stumbles across this little plot of the interweb to sit down and stay for a while. To begin, I think I’ll post a poem I wrote the other night.
Moments
I awake to drops of light falling from the eaves
hitting the porcelain curves of your face
and leaving me wondering what happens next
because this cant be the end of a story long untold
back to the beginning
late sky, up long into the sugar cane night
sweet and sticky as kisses
caught in tangled looks and afraid to move
for fear of a spider in the shape of my heart
But hearts change faster than moments
and we were swept into the arms of passion
like,
moment
two radiant sunbeams whispered
from the darkness into life
moment
rain played solo on the car moonroof
before daredevil dancing under swing-sets and pergolas
moment
borrowed phone calls from 2000 miles away
hoping for a hasty return
moment
fear of summer’s end and
what can happen after seven months of a gambler’s best lucky streak
but then lightning strikes twice and
your skin is back underneath my fingertips
lips pressed against lips
the twisted becomes unwound
and evenings lie flat against our souls
lovers riding shotgun
and forever seems a lifetime away…
but then moment
the death of a dear friend
moment
words left unspoken
moments are not instances of watercolor
splashed onto the memory’s empty slate
they are the wooden grain emerging from behind
peeling paint of conceptualization
of rationalization, our own ocean of insecurities about what was
but even more what wasn’t
yes, i had to leave
and i thought that meant the end
so i struck through your glass box heart
with words that could shatter diamonds
words like “never” and “can’t” and “im sorry”
you were something lost
not to be found for years forgotten
and we were not perfect
we were not shakespearean lovers crossed
by our names
we were two seeds fallen
brushing early leaves in summer breezes
among a garden varied as dreams
lucky for the time we had back then
because like moments
hearts tick past
riding the second hand of fate
and when autumn came that day
on the back of a greyhound bus
we got to start over
cold nights, crisp like paper tigers
bright lights on stalks
watching the one night lovers from their perches
and i found feathers in your sweater
the ones tucked neatly between sheets and blankets
and the morning after
kisses not quite the same as before but still peppermint stained
like the first time
in that sickly sweet Floridian air
when we were young.
and now the clock says go
there’s no more time for hoping
the fading knowledge of an era
but the story hasn’t ended
we’re just authoring a new chapter
carving it among boughs
where those childhood saplings have grown into something more
the roots tangled
giving rise to two strong oaks
branches still brushing lightly
moments
when a sweet southern wind blows our way.