everyone around you is greiving

Category: 2019: open poems

grave dancers union

some cut out cardboard
hanging like a mobile
in the air
above
Lou’s Records
I bought it on cassette
1992
guilty
they got me
I was 15

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be still, my garden

the moon is coming

fear not

my nervous fingers like

feathers in the sun

pierce the coming storm

how innocent the rain

when you smile

I am everywhere but here

in short,

I’ve made peace with

the loneliness

I’ve been

searching for

it burns because

it still burns

blood and water

flood and wonder

my sparklehorse postcard, these days

consists loose twig and purple ribbon

a pail of lunch on the horizon

a unicorn morning in the making

it is a deleted text

to an old friend

with a flannel back pack

and no phone –

the vines when raked

don’t fall far from the walls

swamp mist and chicken shit

palm fronds as big as a toad’s tongue

ripe as rain

silence and thunder

forever

etched

 

I started a poem

it was just a small poem

we were just kids

fascinated

I never told you

I still write

it

take me back

take me back, remind me. set my feet into yr dirt earth. we were sentient once. it came like a spasm. a coming of age. there were wooded bowls for soup. we had a limousine furnished from scrap tin and make believe, the cashmere in the closet, where the rats fed, so young, so fast, everything eye liner and shadow, i learnt from sage. from ocean and sand. from clouds to doom. all of it. in one belt. one sitting. one life line, as they say. ribbons in the wind, if you will. i remember back seat and tape player. john lennon’s julia, battling the wind in my hair, i played it over and over. high as a kite. my eyes were red and my hair was green.