"switchbacks" poems
Driving up mountain miles
of washboard switchbacks;
jarring the dusty rearview mirror
in my mind:
"but don't look back in anger"
... I heard you say
stuck in the cloud of dust
befogging my daydream
back somewhere thereabouts
the washed out bridge
that tore us apart
like a flash flood
It was so long ago
since you were running
and I was hiding in plain sight,
from what the storm
in my eyes did tell
Mindful — you were only watching
the growing distance gather;
finding what you didn't lose
looking back to see
what you can't forget —
like a hesitant child
reluctantly wondering
if anyone was still looking back
at you ― still running away
from each passing storm
Jesse Stillwater
June 2018
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
I’m a barbarian in a woman’s shape.
I stomp into discourse with heavy steps.
Driven by impulse, twisting like switchbacks.
There are so many narratives...
With one hand, I hold a megaphone to my mouth.
With the other hand, from my heart, from my head,
I pull out jagged digressions and awkward arguments.
If I could weave just one logical thread
to see a common perspective,
to stop interpreting…
I would stand tall
on the pedestal of thorny incidents,
inept appointments, yet proud
that I would finally catch myself.
I know, I can only dream of
patiently knitting rushing words together.
I can’t stitch these threads into
a colored, beautiful patchwork,
that could give some warmth to the quandary,
or as a cover for chronic nostalgia.
Meanwhile,
within the conventions of social dreaming
I tilt my head from side to side
Asking myself with incredulity,
How is it possible that the voice
screaming inside me
sounds so weak and dull?
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
narrow potholed roads
long winding switchbacks
blind corners that lead
the chosen to heaven
the rest of us
sinners
rotting slash piles
in a clear cut
fireweed rising
from raw earth
in this land of trees
the forest is forgotten
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 11:44 AM UTC
I lost my first
wedding ring
soon after we married,
floating on inner tubes
coupled together,
drinking ice-cold
beer in the sun.
A flash of gold
and it was gone.
I lost the boots
my father wore
in Vietnam
and the first
pocketknife
I ever owned.
I lost my brother
even though he
wasn’t mine to lose.
I lost my way in college,
month after month,
watching mountain
birds turn wide circles
above rough canyons,
heavy snow smothering
the foothills and switchbacks.
I lost track of time but
found my father’s gun.
Winter will always
sound like the whir
of a cylinder spun in
an unfurnished room.
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 3:05 PM UTC
I'd like to retravel
The road to here
Straighten out a few curves
Undo some straight lines
Unmuddle some puddles
Shake the mud out of my eyes
Take more time to explore
Those missed detours
The road to here
Has been a long one
Sometimes walked
Sometimes on the run
Sometimes rocky, often dusty
And sometimes fun
But never did I ever
Leave a deed undone
I traveled it in the rain
I traveled it in the sun
Ups and downs and switchbacks
There's no going back again
Can't be redone
Miles and miles and miles
Of tears and smiles and love
The road to here.
r ~ 8/2/14
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
what if the lines on our finger tips
are really the pathways and channels we explore in life...
i ride my bike through the same trail
day in and day out
i try to switch it up but i think i've found one that i really love...
so i use it repeatedly
like a grooved in habit
i wonder if my body shows it
are my muscles accustomed to the steep hill at the end or the gradual climb in the beginning
do my legs move to the environment? the bend, the turns, the switchbacks
is my body the story around me?
expressions
what if the lines on our finger tips
are really the pathways and channels we explore in life...
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
Ahead of me
In the woods
At dusk like
A big cat
With big eyes,
The future turns
Away and runs
Up the switchbacks
Without a sound
Each paw pressed
Into the spine
Of my anxiousness.
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 11:09 PM UTC
its a wonder, amazement, you got there,
the journey long and winding,
switchbacks, dead ends, circles
yet somehow the path led you on
to overcome, to make real, to realise
what seemed a half baked dream.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 11:21 AM UTC
He looked into my eyes
As though he could see right through them
I fell into his endless oceany eyes
As he told me that I was shameful
That I was nothing to him
He told me that I wasn't worth the dirt on his soles
I can't help but love him though
Because I am supposed to be with him
His watery blue eyes
Tell me that I am trying too hard
To tell me everything is fine
Even though I know it isn't
He is so turning
Like a road with switchbacks
I am not your mountain
Stop being so indecisive
You like me, or you don't
So just tell me, am I beautiful
Or am I nothing?
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 2:14 AM UTC
Every now and then I look down
It’s not the feeling that something’s wrong
It just reminds me that I’m not the mountain
I don’t like remembering that
It’s the ground beneath me that we love
But who cares what happens to me?
I thought the next step was my last sound
Sweaty palms greeted me tonight
The gravel that spared me is waiting
Or so it seems anyway
It’s not so sensible to think this way
I didn’t work this hard for the things I see
It’s not that I need only flat ground
It’s just that I climbed that day for you
Living on the edge is only for lovers
That kind of stupid is what we long for
Living to die is not how I want it to be
You could meet me outside of town
But will you be her or someone new
I’m not so picky about it anymore
I’m lying again about atmospheres
I believed in perfect switchbacks
Never knowing you lived by the sea
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC