loving you in twelve year old cars
soft kisses in the front seats
a dent in the passenger side door
your backpack in the back seat
paint lingering underneath fingernails
i love art
does art love me?
my friends are all ghosts
i see them
we laugh and we love
illusions shatter after too long
i drive you home at 1 AM
i can barely keep my eyes open on the way home
your love is thrumming through my body
and my gaslight is on
i get a little bit reckless when i’m on the road alone
breathing is just easier with one hand on the steering wheel
in, out. in, out.
this year is hard
i’m up to my neck in responsibilities
is this what growing up is like?
i want to sit down
close my eyes
planes fly above me and i feel a sense of longing
i’m already made of metal
wind me up and watch me go
i’m ready to fly
i have never felt heavier
my head weighs a ton and my neck is made of straw
i want to live in between the bricks
i want to go home
Here I am, off on a trip,
Do I travel on an new airship?
Or do a take a train, not so hip?
Or do I drive my vintage car?
Or is this trip too far?
No, like Icarus the star,
I'll grow wings, better than the car,
So, no automobiles, planes or trains,
No bus, but my wings, that's plain!
Clickety clack clickety clack,
Suitcase wheels over the cracks,
Business men and business ladies,
Men and women some with babies,
The noise they make with heavy pacing,
Sends my heart heavily racing,
Pneumatic tyres would be better,
I'll need to send the makers a letter,
Small cases with high pitch sound,
Ladies with fast walking grace,
Heavy gait of business men,
Large cases with a steady bass,
Trip trap across the road,
Off the pavement to the gutter,
Checking left and right for traffic,
Straight across without a stutter,
Clickety clickety clickety clack,
Two abreast and walking past,
Clickety clickety clickety clack,
Like a train approaching fast.
Fire burning in the sky,
Caught us all by surprise,
They storm in, hard boots hitting the stairs,
Foreign-language screaming with their guns,
As we hold onto those who we love,
All that was, is gone.
A new law was placed, which they won,
Take caution for a new world order,
You can't run anywhere, they closed the borders,
All will choose their two choices left,
Imprisonment or death.
poem in two parts (a plane and bird)
You are a sound in still silence; a point against negative space toward which my eye is drawn. The sun set, peeking beneath a blanket of storm clouds, painting the underside, as a plane, an infinitesimal photon, a plane flew as an impossible pinprick of optimistic light, moving slowly against the immense parallax backdrop of bright and hazy pink-orange glowing thunder clouds. You are the first breath I took. You are the product of all infinities, divided by itself, the sum of all integers. When the earth falls into the sun, long after humans left, long after you left, and any recognizable trace of you is swallowed, your memory will persist. You will have still lived; You will have been the last breath I took.
A fulcrum of loss and a wedge between two equally lost people, but between them, between them still an albatross, flying farther than any eye can see, but should the lights of the lighthouses lose you against their foggy panes, or should the salty wind dash you against something equally heavy, call out, and cast your voice into the sky, upon the sea, and against the stars, and maybe its echoes will live a little longer than you.