"reconcilable" poems
A once dear friend
And I met up;
Twenty years since we spoke,
And neither one could talk.
We left each other's company
On terms of disagreement.
The ice was thick;
The air was clouded;
We stood beneath the shade.
The mountain didn't fall;
The earth didn't swallow;
The roof stayed on.
Nothing cracked our uncertainty.
Then we misquoted some old
Misunderstood memories
Of why we went our ways.
And felt the same.
Oct 21, 2021
Oct 21, 2021 at 6:50 AM UTC
Funny how easy
Loves appears to be, until
It laughs with the other easily
Reconcilable "maybes"
That devalue your first "hello".
First, it began as "hello".
Little did you know how
Interested he would be in you, but
Reflecting on it now, you see how those
Tender tendencies weren't exclusive.
Finally, all you have left is "hello",
Like every other girl he knows.
Inevitably, you're one of many
Recycled pretties that thought
They were more than another "maybe".
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 12:31 AM UTC
if i were to bread my tongue
with rocoto and cornmeal
and twist to reach the andean soil
my tastebuds long for so many nights
out of the year
olfaction and your left-sinus blockage
would stay cradled
in broken-baguette bread-crust baskets,
a trebuchet's missile,
naïve to the horn of the world,
and brittled to a carcinogenic crisp
caped in my earthenblood geysers
en el humo, en la tierra del fuego
in(fierno)
i recount by the tally marks of black felt
resorted to in the puddling of spilt tea,
(like broken china, you never missed
a beat to correct potential error
and my memory),
i count them to remember
the epiphanies standing over a red faucet
a gallon water jug, whistling snail-trickle,
wishing away the cracks in the grout
or the grout itself,
wishing away the cracks in the pottery
or porcelain facade of which
you're so fond and grace with singing cuticles
the fingers of a pianist
lacking the wherewithal
and solid brick gall
to answer the ivory's summons
i am not a piece of clay,
i respond poorly to your sculpture of my surface,
covered in oxides and baked in
hell's oven, your mountain fire
scathes me as it does cedar resin
and i am similarly embittered,
pooling sap & draining smoke
in the embers and dead charcoal
of your embrace
avant le corps, sans l'âme
sans le corps, avant l'âme
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
I want to fall into you,
but you'd rather ****** into me.
And that may be reconcilable for a second
or two
or three.
You turn late nights into later mornings--somewhere exploring skin as if there's no one else,
daring me to bring earthquakes to our footing on common ground that makes me
want to crash into you.
Yet you only plunge into me for an hour
or two
or three.
And I still push closed doors open in my hopeful head
while you can't conceive the thought of us-- or even me--
without the sheets from my bed
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC
I've got a crayon in my hand,
a color for every lost syllable
There's a brightly scribbled drawing
to make my mouth and head reconcilable
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
write of romantic love between
humans ~
my forte,
my essential oils,
write these words
from fingertips upon
a dropped ph-one-
two-too-many-times,
cell cracked phone
and the thought
thoroughs thru
me
coursing in my venous,
a long distance runner
who never looks back
there can be no haters here,
where all who love poetry
gather in a communal
service, a communion of
communication
it just cannot be:
that those who inhale
these millions many
words, and expel
the oxygen of trillions,
can offer up hate
it just cannot be
conceived
oh for sure
sorrow has an endless
litany, more names than
god,
pain, even its residual cousin
anger
I accept if it
the sum, summary,
the summation
of heartbreak and pain,
letting go, expelling here
is ok,
here, that too
but
it is not reconcilable
simply inconceivable
that we who put words
forthcoming forthright
to share, can sustain the,
that stuff that festers
biologically
into hatred of others
you know me,
heartbreak my
middle name,
oh yeah, raged
against the gods unfair,
or my loudly losing luck,
yet net, all passes when
words, heh heh, love poems
awaken me daily with a
“let’s go, we have work to
do”
nope no haters insight inside,
in this site
against the laws of physics which
can bend but never bebroken
Sep 21, 2024
Sep 21, 2024 at 7:57 AM UTC