harmoni-mcglothlin - Hello Poetry

I remember a sunrise, when language finally spun out and left us in easy stillness. We watched the green canal awake with a flicker and I inclined; willing him to touch me just once... But so relieved when he only smiled and said, "Goodnight starshine." ~ Jamie, with one hand on her hip and a flip-flop in the other, struck the best mighty-black-woman pose a little-white-girl could muster and cried, "Harmoni, I'm gonna get the shoe on you!" Laughing until tears reflected on our faces and our ribs implored mercy. Laughing, because all the world was laughter. ~ I remember a Gemini saying, "I love you." Words a mere breath, a flutter winging across distance and circumstance, to rest on my ear. I remember having faith and, for the first time in my life, faith was okay. ~ Tim’s profile ate at my eye, vampire pale under a bloated blue moon. There was silence as there was always silence, expanding and breathing, throbbing against the walls of my thoughts. Dawn begged entry as his arms wrapped me safe, and he said, “I have to get out of this town.” The hush mocked me. My tongue became a corpse in my mouth. “And I don’t want to go alone,” he concluded but his thoughts were far away from me and his arms and the bloated moon, a sinking vista. The silence belonged to me and so did this lie, maybe a finer gift for the moment than the truth. ~ I remember kissing a Kentucky boy at a retro party. Long hair, pulled into a reckless ponytail and dance moves to rival John Travolta's. He was sporting a glittering Saturday Night Fever costume, beaming at me, and whispering, "But I'm gay." I remember a sly smile saying, "It's time to put that theory to the test." ~ Shawn with his secret grin and his animated hands, hiking in the Glades. He said, "You're going to need a stick." Knowing everything, my natural response was an arrogant, "What for?" He shrugged, raised one of his fine brows. Later, when I was up to my chest in mud, swimming alongside a crayfish, missing one of my shoes, he smiled brightly down at me, his chocolate curls a halo in the backlighting sun, "That's what you needed the stick for." He demonstrated how he used it to gauge the depth of the muck. But he didn’t hesitate to offer me his clean hand. ~ I remember a Gemini’s whisper, "I love you." Words a vague breath, spinning and soaring across distance and circumstance, to rest on my heart. I remember believing. ~ I remember Ashton and me driving to The Waffle House after midnight. There was a smashed motorcycle on the highway ahead, emergency lights washing across the windshield. Ash grinned and said, "I'm glad I brought this." And he lit a joint. Half an hour later, still in the exact same spot, The Beatles Twist and Shout came on the radio and I screeched my best version on Lennon’s wild invitation to shake it baby now and Ash bellowed ah Ahhh AHHH and laughter became warm wine dribbling down our chins as the final chords and beats and voices pounded together in a final triumphant roar, dissolving us into a happy heap suspended in a moment where such songs never end and someone is always shouting, “Play it again, John!” The smile in Ashton’s eyes said exactly what I was thinking as horns honked and sirens cried in some other universe… We didn't care if they never cleared that road. ~ My voice made of iron, I said to Phillip, "There is no God." I was sitting at the kitchen table in our one-room apartment, our first apartment, naked and clinging to a cup of coffee, clinging to the only things I could cling to with bitter grief staining my lips. He said, "No? Well, you're not alone, anyway." I didn't know why it should matter or if it did, but I knew it was true and felt the fact ride along to the tips of my toes. I am not alone. I wondered if that would always be true. ~ I remember a Gemini said, "I love you." Words a naked breath, Sent to sail and glide across distance and circumstance, to quiet the shrill music of my memories. ~ Chris’ hands shook as he smoked and avoided my gaze. We sat in inconsiderate plastic seats in a visiting room where drooling, mumbling patients weren’t allowed lighters or belts or shoe laces. This was before… Before Cindy Cyanide received her formal invitation; When Slappy Sleepinol seemed like a decent date to dance him into a bruised and dreaming garden. I examined those hollow eyes in slantwise glimpses; seeking answers in the creases of his forehead, in the stroke of his long smoky exhale, inquiring, finally, “Why? But why…” Through the haze, he caught my eye, held it firm, and said, “There is no ‘why’. I’m sorry.” ~ Hallucinating madly with Jessi at my side, walking down deserted streets in the middle of the night. She took off her skirt and put it on her head. Became a Native princess, headdress rising from her brow, spreading long down her naked back. We continued walking, she wearing nothing but a smile and her ******* The stars painted a melting map over our heads and the road home was endless. We were children and in that immaculate moment, I knew and I was glad. ~ And then there was a Gemini. And then there were dreams.

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Aug 19, 2011

Aug 19, 2011 at 5:27 PM UTC

harmoni-mcglothlin

Gemini Dreams

I remember a sunrise, when language finally spun out and left us in easy stillness. We watched the green canal awake with a flicker and I inclined; willing him to touch me just once... But so relieved when he only smiled and said, "Goodnight starshine." ~ Jamie, with one hand on her hip and a flip-flop in the other, struck the best mighty-black-woman pose a little-white-girl could muster and cried, "Harmoni, I'm gonna get the shoe on you!" Laughing until tears reflected on our faces and our ribs implored mercy. Laughing, because all the world was laughter. ~ I remember a Gemini saying, "I love you." Words a mere breath, a flutter winging across distance and circumstance, to rest on my ear. I remember having faith and, for the first time in my life, faith was okay. ~ Tim’s profile ate at my eye, vampire pale under a bloated blue moon. There was silence as there was always silence, expanding and breathing, throbbing against the walls of my thoughts. Dawn begged entry as his arms wrapped me safe, and he said, “I have to get out of this town.” The hush mocked me. My tongue became a corpse in my mouth. “And I don’t want to go alone,” he concluded but his thoughts were far away from me and his arms and the bloated moon, a sinking vista. The silence belonged to me and so did this lie, maybe a finer gift for the moment than the truth. ~ I remember kissing a Kentucky boy at a retro party. Long hair, pulled into a reckless ponytail and dance moves to rival John Travolta's. He was sporting a glittering Saturday Night Fever costume, beaming at me, and whispering, "But I'm gay." I remember a sly smile saying, "It's time to put that theory to the test." ~ Shawn with his secret grin and his animated hands, hiking in the Glades. He said, "You're going to need a stick." Knowing everything, my natural response was an arrogant, "What for?" He shrugged, raised one of his fine brows. Later, when I was up to my chest in mud, swimming alongside a crayfish, missing one of my shoes, he smiled brightly down at me, his chocolate curls a halo in the backlighting sun, "That's what you needed the stick for." He demonstrated how he used it to gauge the depth of the muck. But he didn’t hesitate to offer me his clean hand. ~ I remember a Gemini’s whisper, "I love you." Words a vague breath, spinning and soaring across distance and circumstance, to rest on my heart. I remember believing. ~ I remember Ashton and me driving to The Waffle House after midnight. There was a smashed motorcycle on the highway ahead, emergency lights washing across the windshield. Ash grinned and said, "I'm glad I brought this." And he lit a joint. Half an hour later, still in the exact same spot, The Beatles Twist and Shout came on the radio and I screeched my best version on Lennon’s wild invitation to shake it baby now and Ash bellowed ah Ahhh AHHH and laughter became warm wine dribbling down our chins as the final chords and beats and voices pounded together in a final triumphant roar, dissolving us into a happy heap suspended in a moment where such songs never end and someone is always shouting, “Play it again, John!” The smile in Ashton’s eyes said exactly what I was thinking as horns honked and sirens cried in some other universe… We didn't care if they never cleared that road. ~ My voice made of iron, I said to Phillip, "There is no God." I was sitting at the kitchen table in our one-room apartment, our first apartment, naked and clinging to a cup of coffee, clinging to the only things I could cling to with bitter grief staining my lips. He said, "No? Well, you're not alone, anyway." I didn't know why it should matter or if it did, but I knew it was true and felt the fact ride along to the tips of my toes. I am not alone. I wondered if that would always be true. ~ I remember a Gemini said, "I love you." Words a naked breath, Sent to sail and glide across distance and circumstance, to quiet the shrill music of my memories. ~ Chris’ hands shook as he smoked and avoided my gaze. We sat in inconsiderate plastic seats in a visiting room where drooling, mumbling patients weren’t allowed lighters or belts or shoe laces. This was before… Before Cindy Cyanide received her formal invitation; When Slappy Sleepinol seemed like a decent date to dance him into a bruised and dreaming garden. I examined those hollow eyes in slantwise glimpses; seeking answers in the creases of his forehead, in the stroke of his long smoky exhale, inquiring, finally, “Why? But why…” Through the haze, he caught my eye, held it firm, and said, “There is no ‘why’. I’m sorry.” ~ Hallucinating madly with Jessi at my side, walking down deserted streets in the middle of the night. She took off her skirt and put it on her head. Became a Native princess, headdress rising from her brow, spreading long down her naked back. We continued walking, she wearing nothing but a smile and her ******* The stars painted a melting map over our heads and the road home was endless. We were children and in that immaculate moment, I knew and I was glad. ~ And then there was a Gemini. And then there were dreams.

216

Woman lies flat in worm-eaten earth, rain battering gnarled spine, cold stones bind barren ******* Small stones, but jagged, shaped and shined by time reshaped by wind unearthed by man. A hundred million years might grow a mountain. Rain stings bare hide, fills and pushes babygirl streams, rushes and forces ripewoman rivers but the ocean it is not. Woman lies face down in fruitless loam. Hands clench rotten roots and slick vegetation. Hands shaped then reshaped by time and tasks become touchless husks growing smaller still. Woman lies quiet worm eaten soil broken back bent against the torrent. Worn feet twist against the ground, seek footing. Small feet they are however mighty. Stepped vigilantly and sometimes stomped along stayed still to be stepped on and stomped ****** Shaped and reshaped by pathways of caution and fury, sometimes fear. Woman lies flat in worm eaten earth. She wished to be a stone to cut rather than be cut. To be the tide, to push rather than be pushed. But she is only a woman and she thought raw earth might taste right so she opened her mouth.

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Dec 28, 2009

Dec 28, 2009 at 7:58 PM UTC

harmoni-mcglothlin

Shaped and Reshaped

Woman lies flat in worm-eaten earth, rain battering gnarled spine, cold stones bind barren ******* Small stones, but jagged, shaped and shined by time reshaped by wind unearthed by man. A hundred million years might grow a mountain. Rain stings bare hide, fills and pushes babygirl streams, rushes and forces ripewoman rivers but the ocean it is not. Woman lies face down in fruitless loam. Hands clench rotten roots and slick vegetation. Hands shaped then reshaped by time and tasks become touchless husks growing smaller still. Woman lies quiet worm eaten soil broken back bent against the torrent. Worn feet twist against the ground, seek footing. Small feet they are however mighty. Stepped vigilantly and sometimes stomped along stayed still to be stepped on and stomped ****** Shaped and reshaped by pathways of caution and fury, sometimes fear. Woman lies flat in worm eaten earth. She wished to be a stone to cut rather than be cut. To be the tide, to push rather than be pushed. But she is only a woman and she thought raw earth might taste right so she opened her mouth.

60

I want a poet between my thighs, wicked tongue wrapped in verse, drive and provoke, serenade this dancing knot of prose hidden here, a hungry mound saturated beneath a soft cocoon of sweltering flesh, suspended in expectation inspired to spill forth steaming compositions sticky on his epic lips, grinning. And he’ll rise then breathing a new stanza onto my fragrant neck “Sandalwood,” he’ll whisper as he fills me with a new refrain emphatically taunts my music to sing down onto his tightened fuse, running rivulets spiraling along his determined thighs, crying out into his listening ear, a requiem so potent it drips off the page and becomes some reality.

0

Dec 28, 2009

Dec 28, 2009 at 7:57 PM UTC

harmoni-mcglothlin

Poet Between

I want a poet between my thighs, wicked tongue wrapped in verse, drive and provoke, serenade this dancing knot of prose hidden here, a hungry mound saturated beneath a soft cocoon of sweltering flesh, suspended in expectation inspired to spill forth steaming compositions sticky on his epic lips, grinning. And he’ll rise then breathing a new stanza onto my fragrant neck “Sandalwood,” he’ll whisper as he fills me with a new refrain emphatically taunts my music to sing down onto his tightened fuse, running rivulets spiraling along his determined thighs, crying out into his listening ear, a requiem so potent it drips off the page and becomes some reality.

33

In the end, I will weep. You don’t have to remind me of that. But still I refuse to simply observe, to delight in colors which I cannot taste and flavors that sting my eyes from afar. The process of becoming has become painful. Rather the salt of tears on my tongue than the sour of an empty mouth. Belief is a delicate fixation, fractured in a blink and gone where it cannot be fetched back. And I do love to believe. I’ll weep because the days have come for belief to bloom a child’s dandelion on giggling exhalation, fragmented in a hundred directions of disjointed daylight. The days have come when I will weep less.

0

Dec 28, 2009

Dec 28, 2009 at 7:53 PM UTC

harmoni-mcglothlin

A Child's Dandelion (For Anais)

In the end, I will weep. You don’t have to remind me of that. But still I refuse to simply observe, to delight in colors which I cannot taste and flavors that sting my eyes from afar. The process of becoming has become painful. Rather the salt of tears on my tongue than the sour of an empty mouth. Belief is a delicate fixation, fractured in a blink and gone where it cannot be fetched back. And I do love to believe. I’ll weep because the days have come for belief to bloom a child’s dandelion on giggling exhalation, fragmented in a hundred directions of disjointed daylight. The days have come when I will weep less.

33