Touchstone Tuesday: Poem IX

I edit my work,

but not early

as often

as my work

edits me.

What’s Art Good For?

“What will you do 
with your degree?” 
 “Create art.” 
“And what’s art good for?” 
Preventing your lunch break 
from remaining the most interesting 
thought to captivate you today. 

Talismans

Words are talismans

from the places

we’ve traveled

and the people

we’ve been,

and the word

I carry in my chest,

favored above all,

is your

name.

On Longing

Every night my soul leaves,
and every morning, it crawls back, exhausted. 
One night I followed it
down old paths 
past familiar trees 
and, all at once, 
I uncovered to where my soul 
wandered 
as I joined my soul 
in watching you.

Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem IX

I fell to sleep singing a love song;

a rhythm to my breathing,

with the cadence

of a chest rising and falling

to the beat of a ballad

that plays for you.

When I awoke

in the middle of the night

in the hollow of a barren silence,

I couldn’t find the music.

After I searched under the covers

and in the corners of the room,

I heard you humming the tune

that lulled me to sleep.

I should have known that only you

could take the music

from my throat.

On Thunder & Power

Whence come tyrants, oppressors and despots,
castles, aristocracies, and upper classes?
Where of the earth comes this power
When none, more than another, knows what the thunder says?

Strong Language

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Touchstone Tuesday – Poem IV

It is, somehow, of great pride
and of stark vulnerability
to write.

Strong Language

 

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Holiness

Sure, we’re all holy

(from the neck up)

 

aren’t we?

Strong Language

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Wordsmith Wednesday – Poem IV

Lo, but if we exchanged in commerce
with kindness as currency
and commensurate compassion,
then – and only then –

would wealth be something of honor.

Strong Language

 

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On Possession

I said she was mine
and he was mine.
They were mine.
And I swallowed them whole,
cherishing the explosive flavor of control.

Then, He came,
and pulled them from my throat.
He told me they were His.
They were all His.

But he didn’t devour them.
What kind of revolution is this?

Strong Language

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