We stand shorebound and watch

fishermen hold tight to rocks,

their faces smooth like beach glass

from years of meeting with the sea.

A wave will crash

and more and more -

Applause for the morning’s bounty.

Even icy dawns

when we saw the #sunrise

over wild spraying sea -

And biting winds threw birds

towards the end of the earth

and the horizon lay as if it were under the tide

ignoring the seabirds fights and cries,

she still accords with fishermen

trading patience for salt.

Their steady, tired feet and tired eyes

meet the wind and take its bites

and respect where the horizon lies.

#poem #shortread #poetry #poet

I often wonder what moment

for you was the pistol

and what moment

was the decision to pull

the #trigger.

It’s usually a split

decision that moves like

an indiscernible

brush stroke, uniform -

An obvious beginning

and end but no sign

of the climax.

I often wonder what life

you would have led

if you didn’t stay -

If you didn’t say yes

to a rock that was below

your worth -

If you didn’t measure

your #life in poorly

assembled dominoes -

A uniformity doomed from the moment

you began self-medicating.

You were never meant to fall straight.

Would you have

remained

in the #Native Land

with red clay to call

home and ground yourself

to ancient beings who never fell from the sky?

Who would you have become

if you stopped

holding on so hard?

I may have never been

but I speculate the sacrifice

would have been worth you knowing

old age.

#poem #grief #addiction #poetry #poet

And that's just fine. The well was empty.

The drought was real.

The time was important.

The sun was high.

Then rain.

#shortread #poem #hey #welcomeback #letsgo

I feel like part of my anxiety is stemming from the fact that I am 28 years old, and when my mom was 28, she was already more than halfway through her life - she just didn't know it yet. And I'm writing this book about my grandparents and literally sitting in history each day reading love letters and transcribing. I'm stuck in multiple eras. I feel everything. I'm being pulled in every direction. I'm old and young love, I'm middle aged and a child. I'm my mother and I am myself and I feel spread out among the universe. I don't know whether or not I have feet in the mortal plane, the immortal plane, and the theoretical plane. I feel everywhere. It's frightening. Because everywhere long enough just becomes nowhere and that's the last place I want to be.

#anxiety #shortread #short #blog #personal #latenight #late #thoughts #personal #journal

You shot me point blank

with your smoking gun

semi-automatic

heart.

Charming spectacle

convincing sparkle

in your eyes -

An addicting, blinding,

white hot

like the sun in the summer

but carrying the effect

of an atomic blast.

I soaked it in

and was dust before

the boom.

#poetry #micro poem #short #poet #shortread #short #poem #love

If I hadn't met

you,

I wouldn't have fallen

in love

(although you weren't

in love with me - incapable,

you said)

for the first time.

Said it out loud to those

eyes

beautiful eyes, like

mine

(but mirrored to mine

because you are

the opposite of me).

Am I Narcissus,

then? Am I

self-indulgent

or do I love

the darkness more than I like

to admit?

(to admit to you I loved your shadows,

fiery red)

#poem #poetry #love #poet #shortpoem #shortread

It is so easy to be my mother. It is essentially effortless to turn around, pick up a bottle, become a functioning alcoholic starting at seven in the morning when my night shift ends, pass out within an hour of pounding liquor, waking up in the afternoon and no one questioning it. My life would have numbing, functioning alcoholic sleep. I never saw myself wanting kids, so I could easily get away with addiction. My job pays well, I live alone, and I have an elderly dog who is low maintenance. I wanted to kill myself when my mom died but didn’t have the gumption to do it, partly because I felt like I’d be a failure and I was terrified of being a failure in my mom’s eyes dead or alive, especially when she told me on her deathbed that she was sorry for failing me. Instead, I lost a bunch of weight on my own in an obsessive control-freak episode. I tried out new jobs and stopped smoking weed and limited my drinking. I began to write and write and model my writing outlet to the likeness of Augusten Burroughs’ Lust and Wonder and David Sedaris’ many-a-memoirs.

I then again lost the sense of control, so I read more about what to do when I wanted control, and how to release the illusion of control. I allowed myself to be used by men because, let’s face it, my male role models were less than stellar throughout my existence. I lacked a lot of female guidance growing up, and realized in my 20s that I’d have to do a lot of the growing up on myself. This is why I don’t like the idea of having to fix or take care of people, although by nature I am a fixer. I have a fear of dying alone, do activities with myself for the peace and quiet, but ultimately want to find someone to adventure with.

There is an intolerance that exists within me towards people who are incapable of communicating, and it hurts relationships but I admitted to myself that I’d rather have no relationship than pretend everything is alright. I don’t know if I’m happy; I don’t know if I’m depressed, either. I know I’m doing what I want in the confines of whatever financial resources I currently have. I think what I am is dissatisfied with how certain aspects of my life have turned out thus far. I want to be published and I want to have a stable, healthy romantic relationship. I fear that if I tick everything off my bucket list, I’ll just die - and that’s the last thing I want to do.

#archives #shortread #death #dying #addiction #memoir #nonfiction

Insecure rapping

tapping

wrapped up in memory failed

Love hurt

love

years spent sending

badness and fear and changing

send

it

away.

physical alteration

I share

with sight, with extra

say I am not

perfect you say

That I wear me.

Well.

#poem #shortread #poetry #poet

You told me you liked

the Call of Cthulhu

because you couldn’t see it -

because you had to imagine how bad it was.

Lovecraft was smart that way,

you said,

to make us imagine our monster.

In our end I realized

by no wanting of my own -

the connections of you and the faceless beast,

a thing I never fully saw.

#cthulhu #lovecraft #poem #shortread #short #poetry #imagination

Love

Is a word feared too much

And used too often.

#poetry #micropoetry #love #poem #short #thought