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Lacey Clark Oct 2018
Raised faux-religiously in a catholic school by convenience of neighborhood (though, I loved the plaid and I wanted to do Eucharist but my mom explained I wasn't catholic, so I dabbled with the hymns and cursive) by my two gay moms and some 'extra kids' (fostering, etc) in Spokane. Homeschooled later (and seriously religiously, Vacation Bible School, NO HARRY POTTER and no saying 'stupid', a lot of neighborhood scootering) by uncle auntie and my two home-made and hilarious cousins (siblings) in Nevada. another private school in the Wild West with my grandpa and grandma (maybe religiously? they took me out to Mexican dinner religiously). And scattered across the West, Mid-West and South for all the rest. Public schools interwoven and equally traumatizing in between states.
One school in florida was known for fist fights and head lice. I kissed my first boy there. and girl. I left for what I thought was summer vacation and never came back. Another accidental move.
I had been squeezed in-between the palms of each coast for high school (plopped in the midwest).
In Wisconsin, I popped like a pimple and broke some major skin. Tried to end my life a few times. Psych ward after psych ward. Pills. Pills. Pills! A nurse took me aside and said "i have hope for you" and it was the first time i felt seen. met hard drugs to replace the cutting- they felt like long lost friends. Easy to pick up.
And recovery was like feeling your face after a satisfying shaving... and not a scratch since.
Now gliding along the West Coast in Academia's matrix. Politics and community engagement and the center. Clean. In the Heart of the City. Biking with helmets. Shoebox studio apartments. Nose in book, nose in food. Day job with a class of kids who I love and who love me. Space to grow, assess, reshape. Optimism. Peace. Stability.
4.5k · May 2016
A Little on Love
Lacey Clark May 2016

A language, a label,
lifting the landfill left in our lonely lives.
Learning to let loose the luggage of our last lovers.
Lustful love, while lively.. lacks the lusciousness of a loyal and laudable lover.

Liquid love
Fills our lungs with laughter
and leaves one lucid and luminous with life. Light Love.

Loose Lips
Lost in this lingual labyrinth of ludicracy,
Love, quite literally a literary landslide,
leaves my lips loose and lousy, looking for a lamplight.

My heart - as limber as lilac.

Leaving Love
Listen, listen!
a Liberated lifeboat
leads us to a love that is
landlocked and limitless.
Playing around with the letter "L".
1.8k · Jul 2016
Dancing with Feelings
Lacey Clark Jul 2016
There was a feeling by the name Romance,
who asked if I would like to dance,
but clumsy I
could not comply,
my legs fell off by pure mischance.
Wrote a limerick on romantic struggles.
1.2k · Apr 2019
Arm Wrestle
Lacey Clark Apr 2019
I’m tangled up in a matrix of concurrent beliefs.
How do I hold one value right next to another at the same time in my heart?
How do I posture two opposing beliefs at once?
It’s like arm wrestling; a warm union but not pleasant until it’s settled. Our brain likes to have one answer.
Though.. here I am knowing that reaching out to you after all this time is both regress and progress.
1.2k · Mar 2013
Lacey Clark Mar 2013
Our souls,
colliding; becoming one
We are each other
in an infinite moment of sensations.

Our bodies harmonizing to the same rhythmic tones,

The feeling of love,
in its most sensual way.
1.1k · Feb 2018
Pens and Pencils
Lacey Clark Feb 2018
"There are two types of people in the world," he laughed after a heavy swig. I laughed and anticipated a mindless reply.
"Those who are pens, and those who are pencils".
An eye-roll dismissed the statement but a curious brow stayed in place.
"All I'm saying is that some folks have a certainty about them. Everything glides off their tongue like cursive dipped in black ink".
I thought of where I might fall on the spectrum.
Imaginary conversations series...
1.1k · Feb 2019
Lacey Clark Feb 2019
my cheeks light on fire often. roses. roses on fire. warm summer winds. it's lovely.

when it happens I've tried to pinpoint it:

when i realize i am thinking about ***
when i sing the wrong note in choir
when i try on a form fitting outfit
when my friends are all laughing at once
when i see first dates happening
usually when i talk
often when i am seen
when i catch eyes with anyone
when i'm late to class
when anyone compliments me
when the champagne lid pops off

whenever i step into the light it feels quite intense
Lacey Clark Mar 2018
My therapist recently asked me "have you ever tried mindfulness?"
I laughed a bit, thinking of the week-long mindfulness camp I attended for suicidal adolescents. I went twice.
This peaceful brain training is essentially giving us a sanctuary to retreat when the world is too loud.
We would eat skittles and describe their flavor and textures. We would focus on our breaths. Make beaded art. Tell collaborative stories. Follow guided meditations laying on unfamiliar gym floors, giggling a bit as we soared through clouds.
I remembered my dedication to mindfulness and the rich peace I felt from finding the present moment.
Now that my anxiety followed me into adulthood, I was willing to revisit. It's kind of a stupid challenge since the present is always here... and yet, it's still a challenge.
I look out my dusty, sun filled window decorated with three vases of dry arrangements. My mind starts to posture into how warm and antique this image feels. My eyes well up with tears as I hear birds sing and trees sway.
A story of my development through mindfulness and what it looks like as an adult.
809 · Mar 2017
Lacey Clark Mar 2017
If I had enough wits to fly,
I'd like to escape the sky,
I'd leave in mid-June,
wave bye to the moon
whilst riding a huge firefly.
794 · Aug 2016
Occipital Networks
Lacey Clark Aug 2016
Love takes refuge in eye contact.
The misfortunate weather around...
impending, hovering-
is cleared whilst
sinking into the still sanctuary
of a anothers sight.
Peeking through a dome of stained glass;
frail, and with untroubled acknowledgments.
Like light creeping through softly,
As rays illuminate suspended dust particles.
And then
A bursting of the shelves containing poise
Winds scattering the tidied shelves of pride,
streaming past stacked memories,
pausing the grand cinema of curiosity,
providing a cloudless passageway
until reaching the very core;
an accord between two,
the chime of one another's identity
eye contact is powerful
755 · Aug 2016
Where are you from?
Lacey Clark Aug 2016
Home has always been tricky to pinpoint on a map.
It's not quite where we came from last,
nor where we pay taxes.
It's not where we want to be,
or the house we grew up in, or the nostalgia we feel.
Home is not where our origins trace back to,
or where our ancestors developed our roots,
in fact, I'd argue
home is not an external location.
It's not the soft grass in our front yards,
it's not the countryside or cityscape,
it's not the wooden floors we collected dust on our socks in,
Home is a feeling.
It nests within us during our travels while we're looking for it,
it is present when we rest our head against a sunny window in the car.
It is here at work while we are making money for home,
it is here at the grocery store where we shop for home.
Home is in friendships where laughing makes you cry and crying makes you laugh,
it is in romance,
it is with family members.
Home is in familiar smells and easy living,
it is in solitude and fresh air,
it is a feeling of comfort inside of us,
where we can grab those fleeting moments,
and stitch them together like a grandiose stained glass window in a cathedral.
Home is a compilation of every place we have ever been,
are going to go, and where we are at presently.
What makes you feel at home?
Life's transience is beautiful with a calm soul.
750 · Feb 2016
Lacey Clark Feb 2016
Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Always daydreaming
Each one a test

I'm a hopeless optimist,
Some may say.
Tossing petals on a silly rose,
wasting the day.

The idea of love,
So open and free
Thought provoking, mysterious
Until it gets to me.

Then I recall,
Why I prefer being alone.
It's hard to find peace,
In someone else's home.

By home, I mean mind
Two becomes one
You both have to share it
To simply enjoy the sun

Start to synchronize
The way we view life
Is seen through one set of eyes

We become a machine,
Two bodies and one brain
A lovely entanglement
Loneliness has been slain.

You passed the test,
And you've set me free,
But only through binding,
The concept of 'you and me'

Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Until the real thing comes,
And starts a fire in my chest.
It's hard to open up.
644 · Dec 2016
The silences that speak
Lacey Clark Dec 2016
The night sky in its crystallized entirety
Snow falling softly
A sleeping baby

Hospital waiting rooms
Closed doors
Being alone

Empty alleyways in the city
Fond eyes
A smile
Visualization helps.
643 · Jul 2016
Open Books
Lacey Clark Jul 2016
We figure it all out then what do we do with it?
Carry it in our pockets waiting to find others who also have it.
We do not own this, nor does anyone lack it.
Everyone has their own sense of it.
You can find this in the broken,
And resting within the successful
It lays on streets of a busy city,
in the golden meadows
in our own reflection.
In the stillness,
in the silence,
in the chaos,
in the noise.
574 · Jun 2020
Lacey Clark Jun 2020
I keep getting drawn by
The pleasure and pull of dissociation
Of being idol
I'm staring at the buzzing energy in between objects
thinking about the gravitational pull
of my own mood
wrote this while I was drunk and ignoring people at a party
529 · Jul 2020
Lacey Clark Jul 2020
I've developed a strange type of anger lately
I've never really been an angry person
I've only felt it in glimpses
like when I was a teenager
and my mom set unjust authority,
or a few times
as a younger girl,
when she was drunk and didn't follow through.
Now I get so angry
that I've started throwing my phone
and deleting apps
and taking all 6 of my cheap gold rings off
and throwing them 1 by 1
at all corners of the room
I started ripping pages out of my planner
and throwing them across the room
I started ripping my phone cord out of the wall
and going for runs all of a sudden
and I am sprinting on the pavement
pounding my feet violently against the cement
and I've been collapsing at this field down the street
and laying in the irritating, dry, straw grass
and crying into the sunset
I've been snapping at people
and myself
I've been hyperventilating
and I keep taking my rings off and throwing them against the walls
those quarantine feels.. missing friends and family
467 · Nov 2018
blank blank blank
Lacey Clark Nov 2018
I've lived somewhere between 25 & 30 homes.

The ones that stick out?

In Portland I rented a micro-studio. No individual unit kitchens: it was 'communal'. Bed came out the wall. Apt description: trendy, affluent, hipsters who want to live communally in theory, but eat out every day instead. Communal kitchen was empty. No one was ever home.

One house in Florida we had a pool and the neighborhood ice cream truck sold drugs. My neighbor took me to the mall sometimes.

In Wisconsin we lived above a bead shop that turned into a dress shop that rented out overpriced prom dresses to everyone. I watched middle-class flock to the shops beneath me. For being a town of 1,000 we had the coolest apartment because I could spy on the whole town and their frequent trips to the bakery.

In North Carolina we lived in a neighborhood called 'beverly hills' and the house was interesting, not very bourgeois as the neighborhood title suggested. I wanted to turn the basement into a gaming center for kids.

In Blank I lived in Blank, it was kind of Blank and I really liked the Blank. From this experience I learned Blank.
442 · Feb 2017
Lacey Clark Feb 2017
The still, soft morning
A sun ray illuminates
The joy of being.
A haiku.
Lacey Clark Apr 2018
California ~
thank you for my birth
never did revisit you
except disneyland
thanks for being home
the body of a mountain
lungs like evergreens
washington's tumor
your coastlines are far superb
please stay a secret
my ****** noses
homeschooling and snowboarding
miss your tumbleweeds
all I remember
three legged cat in forest
hillside four-wheeling
North Carolina~
the blue ridge mountains,
guitar hero and hopscotch
made up for the snakes
fondest memories
most important, my first kiss
beach had a nice view
how did I survive
must have been warmth from others
also my parka
424 · Feb 2016
curvature of our lips
Lacey Clark Feb 2016
There are different kinds of smiles.
The hurried, obligatory one
when you pass someone in a rush.
The empathetic one from strangers
as you're wiping tears in the grocery store isle.
There are wide smiles of reacquaintance,
and cheesy ones
from cheek to cheek
to make each other giggle.
Smiles to fill the void,
subtle smiles when you finish a task,
& smiles while driving away
from job interviews or dates.

One countenance,
a multitude of meanings.

but then there is your smile,
that is its own.
It speaks in volumes while
suggesting nothing at all.
I don't wonder why its there,
so beautifully carved into your skin,
nor do I question your thoughts.
Time stops.
It makes me feel settled into my soul
to see you
curving your lips
looking in my direction.
I can't help but reciprocate.
Wrote this about no one in particular, but can remember pockets of love where it was very applicable to individuals in the moment. Now it's written through the eyes of reminiscence.
416 · Feb 2019
cablecar thoughts
Lacey Clark Feb 2019
I keep hearing that
in order to exist properly
amongst your peers
you need a strong sense of self.
I think that
the stains on my shirt
melancholic playlist in my ears
grumbling tummy
and agitation with self help websites
might be as good as it gets for my 20's.

and I'm tired of trying to be perfectly healthy all the time.
and I think capacity for constant self awareness is a privilege.
just want to exist and not worry about how I interact with people
371 · May 2019
spin cycle
Lacey Clark May 2019
My childhood
was the spin cycle
on high
and now the water is draining slowly
and the click of the machine after it settles
lets me open the door
315 · Apr 2018
autumn transition
Lacey Clark Apr 2018
In my journal I had written a bit while I waited in the hospital for a family member.
I observed others. Some elderly woman looked run down, tired, and a bit irritated with their writing tasks and paperwork they must complete in the lobby. They are full of pain and impatience.
Then there was this woman.. this woman who was raised up in an electric wheelchair, smiling out of squinted eyes and wrinkles like memory foam from decades of laughing.
She reminded me of the transition from summer to autumn.
Those first couple days of crisp weather and that restorative feeling you get and thought you forgot during the peak intensity of the heat. Her face was full of youth and acceptance.
She knows everything will be alright.
And I find inspiration in her countenance and stop biting my fingernails.
302 · Dec 2020
holy fruits
Lacey Clark Dec 2020
Each time we sneeze
a flower blooms across the sea.
I squash 6 clementine slices into my oatmeal
the tangy juice combined with earthy grains
feels a lot like the sunrise peeking through the kitchen.

The condensation outside the kitchen window
is like citrusy carbonated rainwater.
Waking up is a quick race
to pacify yesterday's absences
or excesses.

The oatmeal creates a gooey padding
As the rather **** juice
waterfalls down my gullet
Splashing into the empty, roaring chamber.

We're making offerings to a candle flame,
Dried elderberry flowers and 2 clementine slices.
Smearing black coffee grains across our cheeks
Ruminating on the care of our foremothers
Ever dwelling in the roots below
293 · Mar 2018
What inspires you to write?
Lacey Clark Mar 2018
Things that shape the tone of my writing/inspire me to write: trees (must be the top influencer!), classical music, sun-filled windows, antiques, the flow of pedestrians, children, fresh air, walking by myself, creaky cupboards, acts of kindness, melancholy, small victories, hardships, philosophy, insomnia, the past, optimism, sentimentality.
What inspires you to write?
writing craft poetry open ended community writers
274 · Apr 2020
Lacey Clark Apr 2020
I can curl up in a ball and shake and quiver. For days.
I can breathe in and breathe out toxic shame.
Paralyzed and skittish - like a stricken mutt.
My lungs feel sticky from interlaced, bright, and anxious evocations.
I am so familiar with this part of myself. I am not uncomfortable with this part of myself. This part who feels out of control and desperate for answers. Answers to a million questions - all interconnected.
Desperate for raw meaning and purpose.
Digging for a release and
immediate gratification.

Over time,
and after a process I am very familiar with,
find that tense knot and that trapped air below the surface,
and tend to everything inside.  
It takes a lot of warmth, rest, and compassion.
There's something really beautiful about enduring these uncomfortable moments I find myself in.
I feel the shift,
my cognitive distortions
working their way to clarity,
and then the beauty that emerges penetrates my life momentarily
Like rays of sun.

(This metamorphosis is something we do over and over and over. The awareness lies in the reflection we partake in when the 'storm has passed'.)
Therapy. My biggest tool.
260 · Feb 2020
Lacey Clark Feb 2020
love is
the friendly Atlantic ocean
a lotion that never fully rubs in
humid air

love permeates
like a leaky roof
honey on toast
251 · Jan 2020
Sort it Out!
Lacey Clark Jan 2020
I'm working through stuff.
It feels like untangling a necklace
after finding it in the dryer.

I keep writing about
working through stuff
without sorting much out.

Maybe I'm just playing with the stuff.
It's best to have a lighthearted dialogue
With your shadow.
248 · Apr 2018
yarn and cat
Lacey Clark Apr 2018
My childhood is a ball of yarn,
and I am a curious cat
as I play with it
one moment it surprises me all over again
the tangles, colors, delicacy
then I remember I've been playing for a while
and I leave it be
rough draft... streaming thoughts
241 · Jun 2018
Your Narrow Monocular
Lacey Clark Jun 2018
Everything I did was viewed through the lens of a sophisticated world traveler.
From how I got on the bus,
and checking my intuition of how to stand while it moved,
seeing how I engaged in conversation with strangers,
scanning the clothes I've curated,
and gladly noting how little I seemed to care about them,
marking tallies when I regarded Americans as ignorant,
to scoping my bookshelf for his preferences,
to prying my music taste,
my palette,
and my body.
I get on the bus per usual,
wide stance to balance the stop-and-go motions,
I tell people have a nice day and make small talk about most everything especially the weather,
my collection of clothes is a museum themselves,
I care and tend to each piece carefully,
I think American's are double edged swords,
My bookshelves,
music taste,
and body
are all full of volumes
unreachable by those who try to see me through
their narrow monocular of refined tastes.
This poem is for my friends, myself, and anyone who has dated someone pretentious.
Don't suffocate yourself with your own point of view.
224 · Jan 2020
Lacey Clark Jan 2020
This is all normal
Petting dogs and
Nodding at strangers
Holding the door open
Sometimes it makes me
Go underwater and cry
Where my tears blend in with
Sometimes I wonder why I’m
Wondering why
We want joy
I sit so naturally perched on
A tall naked tree branch
That’s in a grey sky
With a vague horizon
And quiet brisk air
217 · Feb 2019
Lacey Clark Feb 2019
Reverberations are the hard part. Navigating something that will inevitably flow through you as if you have any control. Think about it. Someone jumps in the pool you’re in, you have no choice but to let the waves and molecules orbit towards you.

It is what separation feels like. Reverberations of jumping into a pool. The waves lapping out until finally they blend in the whole again.
break ups and death
190 · Jul 2020
Lacey Clark Jul 2020
do you think
wallpaper wants to talk
to the people in the room?

don't you think there's wisdom
in wallpaper?
how it absorbs the stories and
the spinning revolving door
of people who come and go
157 · Feb 2019
Alleyway Anxiety
Lacey Clark Feb 2019
shame shares a tight border with shyness
both remind me of being a skittish mutt
Lacey Clark Feb 2020
cold blue skies
with crisp air and sun in my eyes
we all play in the warmth
and i feel like a painting on a wall
or a decorative vase with dry arrangements
people find themselves viewing me
i feel so mad
that im ductaped to a pedestal
that im nailed into a wall
that im the frame of a painting
104 · Jul 2020
Folding and Creasing
Lacey Clark Jul 2020
I am making this origami box
With beautiful floral paper
At the kitchen table of my dear friend’s
Pressing down my thumb
to get that sweet crease
Part of this process is how I
Am intending to practice mindfulness
And mostly to get my mind off
The heavy pit in my chest
And I keep looking out the sunny window
At the evergreen trees
And open blue skies
Trying to find a way to take my focus off the origami box
But I keep coming back to the satisfaction
Of the perfectly aligned crease
And return and return
Until I have just made
3 beautiful origami boxes
65 · Jul 2020
heads up
Lacey Clark Jul 2020
Found a penny heads up
Saw your face on it
Tossed it off the Broadway Bridge
There's nothing lucky about
finding a small man's face
staring up at you
on a peaceful walk
55 · Feb 2019
Lacey Clark Feb 2019
When I am fond of someone,
I've always hidden.
Locking eyes with someone I'm so curious about
just has this feeling that makes me want to hide.
I've always hidden.
Behind mom's leg,
behind my locker,
in my comforter,
in my headphones,
in my fantasies
28 · Dec 2021
vino of love
Lacey Clark Dec 2021
the musky candle
solely lighting
the black room
casts a shadow of the fern

follow me
as we exhale
deepening til there’s no air
as we inhale
let our eyes focus
to the buzzing space that lives
in between objects
and and bring your attention  
to the pleasure and pull
of being idle,
the gravitational force
of our hollow fixations.

— The End —