leaves left to wonder about
their fate and fortune.
wet and cold
and slick streets.
but right now it is wet,
drenched in an unpleasant thinness,
a coating on everything
that offers chill and slip.
the wind whip,
the cold biting air,
the cloud drizzle–
are so uninviting.
So maybe today is a day to stay.
Maybe today is the day to stay.
That’s not entirely true.
To Whom It May Concern:
So I impulse bought another plant. Two in fact.
That’s not entirely true. I bought grow kits for a thyme plant and a rosemary plant, so I essentially bought pre-plants. And dirt. Dirt that leaked out somehow and got on the jeans that I also impulse bought. What I’m trying to say is that I took a trip to Target.
I do kind of need the jeans, though. I promise that my impulse purchases are measured.
Well, most of them. I don’t need the pre-plants. I will use the pre-plants once they become plants, but I don’t need them. They are more to fulfill my dreams of homesteading, even while I live in this apartment, and also to fill in the gaps of my herb collection, which previously consisted only of basil and mint (if you don’t count the lavender that I killed through negligence before it even flowered). (I promise that I am not as terrible of a plant parent as that previous parenthetical might make it sound. Or maybe I am.)
The other day, I took a walk around my neighborhood. The times I had done it before, I stuck to my secluded little space, but this time I wanted to venture further. There is a crosswalk with traffic signals and everything out on the main road, so I had assumed this meant that there was plenty of sidewalk to be found beyond that point. This is not the case, not even close. It went on for maybe 30 feet and then ended. I walked those 30 feet because I knew that the other side was even worse. I found where the sidewalk ends. Maybe one day, I’ll write a poetry book about it, unless, of course, that has already been done.
After those 30 feet, I turned around. I had taken the dog with me on this little adventure, and he was very confused, as was I. Why put in those crosswalk signs before there is anywhere for them to take you? It would be one thing if they were clearly preparing for sidewalk construction, but that is clearly not true. Not knowing where else to go, I walked the dog through a bit more of the area on my side of the main road and then took him home.
Later, I took a drive down that part of the main road, the direction away from the highway, the direction that I almost never go in. I was looking for sidewalk, to see if it started again anywhere near that crosswalk. What I was really looking for was the hope that my sidewalk issue is a problem that the city would undertake in the near future. That there is just a gap that will be filled shortly.
The sidewalk didn’t start again for a long while. So long, in fact, that I had stopped looking and was surprised when I spotted it. I continued to drive not looking for anything at all, found nothing more, and returned home.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for in life in general; I’m not sure if I’ll ever know, but sometimes I do find it in caring for plants. Confusing dogs can also be fulfilling.
Anyway, wish you all the best!
a precipice space
I told you what I wanted was cliff love,
the kind full of reckless abandon and passion.
A precipice space where we could face fears of
explosions, implosions, and things of that fashion.Continue reading “A Rewrite: I Think I Might Want More”
Who loses a single shoe, and where?
A shoe is gone, one of a pair
that once both belonged to me.
Who loses a single shoe, and where?
I look and look, but do not see.
It’s missing maybe for forever;
must have walked off by itself.
See, shoes these days are very clever,
won’t stay in place upon a shelf.
Oh never mind, I just found it,
it’s been here underneath this chair.
Ignore the part the dog clearly bit.
I wonder who could have put it there.
A mirror to those around
reflecting back the parts of themselves
they want to see in the person before them.
No innate personality,
a tabula rasa
that gets etched in then polished clean
over and over again.
Clay molded and unmolded
molded and unmolded
surely one day
will become overworked
windows of glass
This house has many windows.
One in the kitchen
that sticks in the summer heat
and refuses to ever let a breeze
pass through when most needed.
One that is
destined to be replaced
because of a crack
running through the glass.
There’s one in the upstairs bedroom
with a view of the street below
where children play
and lovers embrace
and people laugh and dance.
A different one
with stained glass decorations
hung against it
to catch the light
and send colors cascading
into the space.
And one window has
a view of nothing but a brick wall
on the other side.
Manuscripts with their jolly and vibrant colors
There are more coffee table books
than happy memories
in that place.
Manuscripts with their jolly and vibrant colors,
begging those who pass time on the beige couch there
to see, to read,
to look at their shiny, captivating images.
They are a distraction
from the stony silence
that envelops that living room
where very little living is done.
The home was meant to be
a shared abode
but, as fate would have it,
not by the two
who dreamed to drape themselves
in blankets of familiarity
Those who thought they would find comfort
in the chest of the other.
One book on the table features pictures of nature,
images of green spring days,
of places to go to be at peace.
On the cover is a blooming clover field,
the type made for rest,
blooming with flowers
that call to the bees.
On the day one moved out,
taking those books on their way,
very little else changed.
The other stayed, as did the couch
as did the silence.
The one left to live there
and to find someone new to share this home with
sometimes still dreams of those clover fields
featured on the nature book cover,
hoping next time won’t be
The door invites in appearance
with its warm, enchanting hue
and beautiful, shining
One might walk up to it,
engage it in conversation,
ask to pass through it.
“Enter not,” it says in reply,
its hard, wood self
stiff with loyalty
to those behind it.
“Instead, stare up me,
think of the opportunities
that lie behind,
the people you could meet,
the things you can do.
But do not dare touch me–
do not knock
and do not run your fingers
along my beautiful paint.”
The door stays steady,
its color aggressive and its handle
full of metallic bite
“Go away for now,”
commands the door.
“You may come back,
but you many never come in.”
The ceiling vent pumping cold air into the room
groans and rattles and disturbs.
There is so much space in here,
more than can be used
by one person.
It’s almost as if
humans weren’t made
to sleep alone.
The pillows have gone flat so quickly,
so why were they so expensive?
A philodendron propagates
in a mug of water.
Hopefully, that new leaf
will unfurl soon.
The alarm clock is wrong;
its time changed when the power went out
for just a second this afternoon.
Who knows when it will be changed back.