we walk beneath the weight of the outside
birds sing in tune with the collective
& trees reveal their 50-year-old whispers
homes along the way glide above the sunshade
in-between blanketed shadows and sidewalks covered in gum
neighbors swim in the darkness behind blackout curtains
their beds balance on cups of bedside water
& a yellow candle glows above the city
dad grills carne asada as he always has since the beginning
his golden retriever gazes out beyond space and time
the sky forgets to turn blue, the Sun takes a breath
all the stars begin to look the same.
every summer a piñata swings from the pepper tree
as dust and ice pirouettes around Saturn and the party
a streetlight flickers on K avenue, a shower of silver
crescent moons igniting California smog.
bones and all,
Soak up the
sour & the sweet
Remove yourself from
soil so dry
Plant your body
& your soul
in self-loving hands
Sway with the wind
but remember to
create your own someday
Nurture your warmth
don't let it die
You are free to grow
in this landscape.
Remind your mind's eye.
This is your time.
Neatly coating the floor in thin white trails, woven into floorboards like cotton twine, sunbeams snake their way across hardwood.
Books scream to be read & my yellowed pages ache to detail my experience as a widowed reader of time.
Magazines pile, while my simple hands grow a day older.
Heat on my neck.
The driver of time exhales grandiose,
tells me to travel while I'm young,
visit regions on this globe that grow green with age,
listen to honest trumpets before I gray,
wade in pools of clear urgency.
"Find a walking stick out beyond the ether
laugh with veracity, poking fun at Saturn & the Stars."
What will the future hold? Only Time will tell.
"Dreams are foreign and uncomfortable. The common dreamworld never quite mimics life in its truest form."
I flew over snowy mountain peaks on my way to Amsterdam, dreaming of existing in my truest form. My layover in Reykjavik was only three hours long, & I was traveling alone. Three hours is just enough time to worry about getting lost & I pondered what it would be like to let go.
My trip would take me to Amsterdam, then London. I would find myself in Amsterdam again by day 10. I chose to ignore the loneliness by drinking a pint of Belgian beer in a bar that was much too small and enveloped in tobacco smoke.
On my way to the bathroom I spotted a cat prowling the floor like he was hunting for a bird. He was out of place, yet here he was in his truest form. Forever hunting for a bird that was nowhere to be found.
As a baby, he'd eat watermelon like it was his last supper.
Mom always said he'd eat a whole watermelon if she'd let him.
He was a happy baby, she'd say. Always had a smile on his face like he knew the answer to happiness.
Absorbing dust and Golden heat,
living more openly than I do,
he shimmies to Billie Holiday
The year is not 1957, though
he lives in a San Francisco fog
longing to play the piano
The time in not 11:57pm, though
he orders a ***** martini & swims
in the fishbowl bay
Escaping to Telegraph Hill
to drink moonlight jazz & vermouth
he pretends to live
Way back when
I haven't wrote a poem in 2 years!