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Calvin Baker Aug 2019
Carried away by the ocean
To sights far from shore, on
The swells of sweet-blue brine
And waves like skyscrapers
Help, o' rescuer mine

Carried away by the ocean
Like a flea on a dog
On an elephant sea
A small life, determined
By whim, fate or fancy

Carried away by the ocean
Or drowned, a ship scuttled
Car'ed away, or Taken?
I fear this no nightmare,
no green world to wake in

Carried away by the ocean
Me, a thought, Me afloat
A salt breath in, rhythm
Eyes up, not ocean blue
A floater, white phantom

Carried away by the ocean
Sudden, tumultuous
roar, crash, repeat, closer
Closer! hum, whine, mouth sounds
Pull, no Wet. warm. Answer.
Calvin Baker Mar 2018
The sun sets behind too many trees,
inverted needles stabbing at the sky

The sky bleeds, crimson then rose then amber
As blue fades into violet, and the forest becomes blotchy

Thick ink dropped in water, cloudy
and almost impenetrable, then translucence is consumed

Memory is this way
The way I remember you, is this way

A bad taste on the tongue,
sour milk, moldy bread, tang

I once tried to paint with my memory of you,
and the colours ran, mixed, stained my canvas

I've painted over you a few times,
but you're a scar

The sun sets behind too many trees,
I can't see it, save for the shadows
Calvin Baker Dec 2017
soft and lustrous, these colours decorate
like stars of a feather, all wrapped together
if i close my eyes, they begin to swim
tight in a spiral, they spin and spin
each colour a story, vivid and rich
amber - a cobbler, poor and overworked
blue - a priest, with sermons of doubt
and that green, and this red
a tapestry woven in luminosity
Calvin Baker Dec 2017
with the darkness of winter closing out our days
so too is winter's bite, silent, invisible
mandibles of frost and hypothermia

at first the pressure is light, even pleasant
an embrace, and we welcome it
until it starts to hurt

the chill eats at your fingers, your nose
a cold consumption
of unprotected flesh

there is no fighting, no hiding
only waiting, and freezing
winter is long, and winter's bite - patient
Calvin Baker Mar 2017
An ever-flowing chalice
of thick red wine
You could choke before you drown
Damnation in excess
Devilry in revelry
Plenty; a curse
Revenge is in the tannins
Calvin Baker Mar 2017
Imagine a cream coloured sky
(is actually quite frightening)

When pale, deep, and sky blue vanish
we are forced to question the stability of our world.

Now imagine a friend who has vanished,
or a lover has lost interest,
and isn't that kind of the same thing?

Or what about the temperature climbing higher,
or the oceans getting bigger.

The number of bees getting smaller,
and all the trees that we're harvesting.

Why does change need to be dramatic before we take interest?
Why can't it be small. Incremental.

Reaction these days is necessitated by crisis,
and not an everyday shift towards disaster.

We are comfortable with the everyday.
It is predictable. And comfortable.

But a cream coloured sky...
Now that would scare us into action.
Calvin Baker Mar 2016
if i knew that whichever way i travelled
i would still come back to this crossroads
would the journey matter at all? No,

unless i was not the same, carrying
the new disease of experience,
wisdom, and enlightened by perspective

then would this crossroads be the same,
if i were different? would i not pass on
this illness, to infect someone else?

if i knew that no matter where i journeyed
i would still return to this crossroads
would my travels matter at all? Perhaps

if i were changed, mutated
by the infection, with imagination,
creativity, and enlightened by relationships

then would this crossroads be the same,
if i were different? would i not pass
this blessing, to better someone else?

at a crossroads i sat, and pondered a syllogism
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