not even close to a thousand i know it makes a difference it has to.
i'd hold my breath but that is not human and i would die.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Hey guys, I don't usually do this non-poem-y posts (well I guess anything can be a poem...) but I decided this was important. For those of you that have not yet listened to slam poetry, YOU ARE MISSING OUT. It's probably not for everybody, but I think true poets like yourselves should at least give it a shot. So if you just need a little motivation, I'm listing a whole bunch of my favorites, so all you have to do it *click*. Enjoy =)
**most of these are explicit ;)
Andrea Gibson:
Anis Mojgani:
Carrie Rudzinski:
Taylor Mali:
PHEW. So i gave you a ton of options... check it out!!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Piano Skeleton
My elbows and my lungs agree,
I hold a newborn the same way I hold my breath.
Days can pass by the hundreds but seconds are only measured in fireworks;
I can't see the castle from here, but the moon was brighter than ever last night and so were your eyes.
It's okay if you leave me shattered on the floor someday as long as my pieces are stained with your fingerprints,
I think my fingerprints would be more natural printed on your ribs than on the ivory keys.
You will soon figure out that I can tiptoe down the stairs in the dark of night
and I can leave a whisper hanging like a dead man.
I can dive under the water without making a splash.
But look how I make a ripple
every
time.
The day was sunny March, but I know you felt me shaking under your hands.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
I once found a ladder tall enough to crash through the atmosphere.
I climbed it until I could reach the tallest star of the big dipper, and I stole it out of the sky.
Then I swallowed it.
I could feel the star glowing all the way down my esophagus, and I never even stopped to worry that my stomach acids would devour its shine.
I know that my star found the secret cavern in the darkness of my body where the gum and the watermelon seeds hide.
I would say I was free but I still can't escape the moon's pull of the tides.
I'm still a slave to gravity and I couldn't divert my path from the north star if I tried.
Orion's belt may be big enough to hold us together
but I doubt it is tight enough to hold our pants up.
My star shines outside of my skeleton sometimes.
My light escapes through my throat when I sing sad songs by myself.
My light escapes through my eyes when I describe my best friend or my mother.
My light escapes through my pores when summer rain and soft words spoken with timid lips fall on my skin.
My grandparents have never spent a night separate from each others heartbeats.
This May will make 58 years.
My grandmother still cried when she told me the story of how she met my grandfather.
Some stars never burn out.
I'm offering you the lines on my palms, if you'd like I can show you:
My star shines outside of my skeleton sometimes.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
(untitled)
If the feathers
and the beads and the songs on my hands were enough to catch the look in your eyes,
I might dance at night.
Instead of writing you midnight poems.
My fingertips are graceful as they connect hearts to pages,
but if you open up your pupils in the dark you might notice my calloused palms;
I've been pulling ropes and hopes and miles.
Fragile (Handle with Care)
I poem in my bed, like maybe real-world sunlight will never come.
I lock rhythms in my head, in case the real-world sunlight never comes.
When I breathe sometimes,
I think I can feel the universe pulsing,
I check my pulse when I breathe sometimes to feel the universe
I am also too careful, like my mother.
The seconds on the clock harmonize with the raindrops on my driveway,
tick turns to drip as drop turns to tock,
the entwining of nature and science is beautiful sometimes.
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