Mauri Pollard

Mauri Pollard Oct 2013

Inkwell

She puts her head down and slightly to the left
trying to smile, but not all the way there yet-
like a black and white photograph.
It seems like the world has left her.
The little girl across the black stream drowned in the melting snow.
Pity. Because they sure loved to play in the springtime.
The older boy has given up his soul.
Sold it-not to the devil- but to defeat him.
Funeral attire.
She wore a black dress too.
Abhorrence turned into trust which turned into fondness
but too many rules and restrictions and ridiculous favors.
and now? Now what's left of that?
Everything is so solid and so broken at the same time.
If only Einstein was right and this moment was every moment.
So she was lonely and content and wishful and weeping and laughing and kissing all at the same nano second.
So she didn't have to ever drive away.
So she never had to leave the warm, lovely smelling basement.
So, even though the blonde craving a change had become mute,
they still talked till midnight and later.
So she didn't have to choose a worst moment or a happiest moment because it was all one.

because that is what truly killed her.
Time.
but time is a black and white photograph.

Mauri Pollard Aug 2013

An Ode to Trips in California

The way I miss thee seems to be unique;
'Tis not the way a teenage girl pines;
'Tis not the way computer lovers meet;
And neither is it how my mother lies.
My hand, alone, knows not to want another,
though loneliness will tend to grow it cold;
My lips, so soft, to taste those of thy brother
would rather rot until ten million old.
I can't forget the scent of thee, it's gone,
though stored away behind turned lock and key
and mixed with words that breath have I grown fond;
And use to fall in love with memory
the way I miss thee comes from love, so deep,
Not vain, nor false, but strong enough to weep.

Mauri Pollard Aug 2013

San Francisco Lightning

The thick black sky lights up
Like a bug zapper.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Like touching static cling
or an overzealous strobe light.
The sky splits and bright yellow light streaks through
and threatens to touch the dry ground and
send an electric shock through the earth and the hard rocks.
Deadly and beautiful and quick.
as humans, we long to be near it.
To be so close our hair stands on end and a burned smell drifts through the air.
Strike the ground right before me.
Pierce the humid air.
Cut though the darkness.
We desire a close association to the thin lines of electricity we don't understand.
We'll never understand.
Not fully.
We think we do. We think we can cut it down to its atoms and find out what makes it rush out of the clouds.
And then it changes on us faster than we can blink.
And we realize we can never understand it.
The way it functions.
Shows up in our life one minute and disappears the next.
Beautiful and deadly and quick.
And you want it most as it streaks across the California stars.

Mauri Pollard Aug 2013

Late Night Thoughts

The lake, thick and dark,
Reflects the amorous stars
And casts a shadow.

Mauri Pollard Aug 2013

Life is sometimes Overbearing

I lay in the dark.
The midnight hour is calling
And dreams await me.

Mauri Pollard Jul 2013

The First Letter I've Written to You in a Long Time.

Tonight was the first time,
I think,
I have ever heard the hurt in your voice
with no music playing.
Or seen the regret etched in the lines
on your face in the dark.
It was odd, finding you so vulnerable.
Opening you up and dissecting the words inside.
I didn't know what to do with myself
and with your vulnerability.
and mostly your regret.
what do I do with all your regret?
It seemed like you finally realized
what you threw away.
That you threw away hope
and no one can live without hope.
But you tried to live without me
and in the process you destroyed me and
I had to try and find myself again.
That's why I put up walls,
you have to understand.
There are walls now.
I don't know how they got there,
one day I just built them up and they stayed.

I wanted to be there tonight,
but I was tired of being told that I didn't.
I thought about grazing your lips with mine
and touching a star with sun-kissed finger tips,
but those walls told me it was a bad idea.
that I would, again, inevitably, be hurt.
Though my heart still beats for you and
my soul still likes to laugh with you,
my mind is confused on how to react.
You must understand this fight between
body
and heart
and soul
and mind.
and also with the world.
because everyone's biased towards something.
and maybe I'm just biased towards you.

Mauri Pollard Jul 2013

Cant Repeat the Past?

I need to get over you,
But life is cruel and pushes us together like boats
borne back ceaselessly into the past.
I need to get over you,
But guilt hits me like bullets.
I need to get over you,
But I already know you love New York and turf cuts and
caramel coated cherry stems.
I need to get over you,
But I look so cool
with American flags over
my eyes and, hey, we're finally seventeen.
I need to get over you,
But you changed two of those
presets just to not miss me.
And no one knows why anyone likes baseball
or falling in love
or stealing musky sweatshirts and
falling asleep.
I need to get over you,
but cops find us and we're out
past curfew
and "All we did was sit
close to each other, officer, I promise."
Just drinkn' & dreamin' the
longer I run.
I need to get over you,
But you're so warm and I'm so
cold and it just fits
together like it should.
And I can't help but laugh and make
a mess of myself.
But you change your mind so fast.
When will be the next time?
I need to get over you.