Thursday, January 24, 2013

always. sometimes. never.

a little too dramatic
self-assured around to centered
and walking walking walking
centered in that circle
a little too problematic
it all spins around, around
and you swear it's you
that's moving
but you're just hanging on
but you are still hanging on
always.

a little too turned around
to turn around just yet
coming through the clouds
stretching yawning waking
awakening in the same bed
a little too cloudy
it all hangs around you
and you swear it's you
that's hanging around
but you're leaving
sometimes.

a little too caught up
to catch up right now
the finish line approaching
and running running running
through the line up to catch up
running instead of sleeping
and you swear it's continuous
but it it isn't
and you swear you're behind
but you aren't yet
never stop running
and you know i won't
never.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

blessed and kept

his hand rested on my head
i was tiny and calm
he read me stories before bed
i was seven and sleepy
and he asked the lord
to bless me
and keep me
to shine upon me
like my name means
now i'm sad and scared
and almost thirty, instead
and before bed i'm crying
like i deserve to
and i pray for a hand upon my head
to feel blessed
to feel kept

"The Lord bless you and keep you
The Lord make His face shine on you
and be gracious to you
The Lord turn His face toward you
and give you peace."
Numbers 6: 24-26

lonely city

it's so cold out there.
it's so cold i don't care.
he's gone and forgot his mittens.
he's gone and i let him.
but i blossom with security,
and he thrives on uncertainty
are we finally going to be safe?
are we making another mistake?
the black and white and gray:
an eternal struggle to go or stay.

crashing couches. burning bridges.

you say that this time you don't want to (go). but my heart is telling me that you'll disintegrate if you don't (go). and something else is telling me that you survive on those couches (los angeles, new york) and you thrive on those chances (wandering, returning). but this time this could be different. your reel is spinning, couch to couch and i watch it play out and it watch you buy your tickets and i watch your head shake no you don't want to (go). but you do because i can only give you half of that and i must give you more than a couch. and your thoughts led you into a cage, but it could have been a den (trapped or hibernating?). when you pack you pack your flask and lighter. and i'll sob because i'm no longer a fighter (for your lungs and liver). though i was, i retreated because you felt that sword along your back and those needles in your ears and it made you heavy. like this bridge we built so that we could (go). anywhere. but i came here and you came along and that cold made you less strong. bridges of love letters. came down word by word and you've got that lighter just in case and that flask just in case it goes the other way and you watched me let it all (go). and you let it all (go). where you're understood and warm.

troubled

with no soft place to lay your head
with your bag and shoes in tow instead
without the comfort of our unmade bed
you are troubled
again

but now you know your father
and now you know your purpose
but now you know i'm troubled
again

you're hoping for a landing pad
hoping for what you should've had
hoping for sanity in world gone mad
(because it's not you who is)

because it's not you who's unsure
because it's only what you choose
again and again

searching for understanding
from me
searching for that safe landing
from me
searching for solid standing
from me
and you know i tried
again
and you know i cried
again
(because it's not you who did)

Sunday, January 6, 2013

nine needles in a tomb

in the golden age
made of stone
on a deathbed stage
made your home
roll away the stone
like jesus
roll away the mystery
before us
we were always meant to find you.
earth to metal to flesh.

in the ancient dark
shrouded in dust
indifferent to time
saved your stories
reveal tricks of wisdom
like confucius
reveal secrets of dynasties
enlighten us
we will ever know your conduits.
tunnels to channels.

thousands of elusive years
the gift of the emperor to us
the gift we'll never hold
nine small tools.

"Sharpened stones known as Bian shi have been found in China, suggesting the practice of acupuncture may date to the Stone Age... during the Han Dynasty stone and bone needles were replaced with metal. The earliest examples of stone [and metal] needles were found in a tomb dated to c. 113 BC"