"frontmost" poems
~for r a/k/a rrr a/k/a woody~
“I will always remember you”
raise you hand if honesty
yet lives inside your muscle
memory of brain, of heart,
there is no one here who hasn’t
uttered them fool lying words
with difficulty we struggle to up
raise faces and places, moments
and images no longer mirrored
within the frontmost places of
our recollection, that searing then,
itself scorched, lichen+moss covered,
our greatest pains, pleasures sworn
allegiances to these razored inflection
points, now scoured by rusty hazes,
and we wonder what has become
of us, what we valued so to savor
as forever memories, their names
gray lady shrouded, and there is
no internet site to aid in self-recovery,
for our selfish selves have been altered,
time, new loves, guilt and other stuff
intersect with mind’s eyes and no mas-
more synapses paths instant linkages
I know you will vociferously argue but
it is almost physical, our shame at losing
them and ourselves, in the morass that
time digs daily deeper for what grieves
us is that losing as the end rushes to close
our story, makes us pick up pen and finger
scratch as best we can inside the lines on
our faces that are/had proofs, witnesses,
that once, we were there at the places,
whose names are no longer mapped any
where, so deep, no archivist’s submersible dare
fathom those fathom’s darkest we would need
to explore without the possibility that we
might implode if we sunk so far to rip apart sea
forests we knowingly, secret-planted to coverup
her memory, the words spoken, the oaths
and promises, we swore, for instance, simply
by saying, “I will always remember you”
p.s. and my self-shaming so great, that my
asking for forgiveness is buried so fast, it
may, not ever been real, just another fiction
Jul 6th, 8:36 AM,
Jul 7, 2023
Jul 7, 2023 at 6:42 AM UTC
Maybe its just me
And my megalomania
My overblown ego
But I keep seeing and hearing
Faerie
Fairy
Fae
Fey
Everywhere I go
In chemistry: the conversion faerie
(She don't exist)
In lunch: the tooth fairies
(They might exist)
Everywhere: helpful faeries
(Of course they exist)
So is it just in my head, or are faeries creeping back?
Through the tangles of mental barriers
Near the frontmost of our subconsciouses
Maybe it's my nicknames becoming more prominent
Perhaps I'm just being silly
And maybe I'm simply pigheaded
But maybe it's true
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 8:27 PM UTC
I feel most beautiful when my hair is haphazardly thrown into a French barrette, my pajamas are loose, and my scented lotion on.
I couldn't tell how much of my usual actions tonight of quickly twisting my hair, or picking which scent to wear, were influenced by my love for me or you.
I gently pulled the frontmost curls from the barrette and clasped on a delicate necklace in my vanity mirror. I selected the small, expensive bottle from my collection to melt into my hands, wrists, and clavicles.
I would never leave the house without this evening routine, and even though we're only crossing the street, I indulge in my reflection. It's the most I've loved myself all week.
I don't look to see if the lashes are perfectly parted, if the hair is tamed, if anything. I just take in my sights and scents,
and I secretly hope you do too.
Dec 15, 2024
Dec 15, 2024 at 8:39 PM UTC
it weaves in and out of your preoccupied consciousness
then the towers crumble into that sweet sweet sanity
and the flowers all bloom with the intelligence
it weaves in and out
through the pores of your fingertips
where lavender oil is spilled over a mountain
it weaves in and out
through the crevices of your solitary mind
your last breath becomes of it
your last chance to redeem your father’s stance
it weaves in and out of your arteries
pumping like roses
your legs separate from your talents
your passions become something extraterrestrial
it weaves through your education
and leaves your nail polish sticky
it differentiates the grass from the moon
constantly spilling, pouring
from your mouth
your heartaches become minute and simplified
but are constantly ****** into your very frontmost
vision
it weaves in and out of your preoccupied consciousness
then flowers into separate entities
similar futures
it’s always on your head
and in your soul
what you’ve become
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC