"unmoor" poems
and i am eleven again
feeling like tomorrow
is a couple yesterday's ago
smothered in cayenne pepper
hot enough to take off taste buds
and tonight i am eating a meal
only worth burning
it tastes like my parents anniversary
it tastes like a zinfandel
left on the counter too long
it's a bad story, see
there's no silverware
'cause my mom sold it
to keep the lights on
and somewhere in heaven
somebody in a suit
doing commentary
on this fiasco
is telling someone else
in a suit that
"you have to eat love with your hands"
so we sit, four plates on the table
for the two of us
my brother's long gone
dad's even further away
& he's not the one who's buried
i carry both their names like anchors
that i cannot unmoor from
while she looks at the empty table
and says something about the news
she says something else
but she's not talking
we aren't proud of this, see
my dad likes to wax his car
he's proud of it
and my mom says
she sees a lot of him in my hands
says, i touch the things i find
like they didn't belong
to people sleeping in the ground
she says i touch photo albums
the same way-
you know,
i never used to believe
that history could repeat itself
not until i could
fast forward seventeen years
and still wake up to smoke alarms
how i would go into our kitchen
to find it empty
and the dinner smoldering
& my mother in her bedroom
looking through family photos
like it's a just another summer day
and the sirens are just the birds
i don't ask, i never say a word
in this moment
i am an archeologist
afraid to dig up the past
cause history repeats itself-
you see
my brother is dead
and my father is gone
they have been for some years now
and my mother
sometimes forgets
and sets their place at the table
like they're still here
and in the confusion
ends up ankle deep
in pictures of how it used to be
she let's dinner burn
and douses it in red pepper
hoping i won't know the difference
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Sunrise quiet
hiking through
the dropping blush of autumn
the morning after election day
inside the trails of forested
trees that were not allowed
a vote
coming upon a canyon
splitting
the un-United States
down the spine
pondering the illusion
of human separation
We reach down and *****
a bridge
sweeping
over the chasm
Next,
we tie a rope swing
to the oak branches above
and unmoor the canoes
from the cedar docks below
Americans stand on
each side,
holding up
similar signs
clear in
truth and oneness
our shared desires
and basic needs
The signs
reading;
Freedom
Safety
Health
Respect
Home
Work
Joy
&
repeating grandly,
over
and over;
******
Love.
Slowly,
as the drops
of dew transform
to puddles
and the sun
lifts to crown
us all in lemon light
we raise up
our shovels
and begin
the work of
filling in the
imaginary
canyon
That once
suffered
divide.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 11:57 AM UTC
I am eleven again
feeling like tomorrow
is a couple yesterday's ago
smothered in cayenne pepper
hot enough to take off taste buds
and tonight i am eating a meal
only worth burning
it tastes like my parents' anniversary
it tastes like a zinfandel
left on the counter too long
it's a bad story, see
there's no silverware 'cause my mom sold it
to keep the lights on
after my brother passed
when I was eleven
and somewhere in heaven
somebody in a suit
doing commentary
on this fiasco
is telling someone else
in a suit that
"you have to eat love with your hands"
so we sit, four plates on the table
for the two of us
my brother's long gone
dad's even further away & he's not the one who's buried
i carry both their names like anchors
that i cannot unmoor from
while she looks at the empty table
and says something about the news
she says something else
but she's not talking
we aren't proud of this, see
my dad likes to wax his car
he's proud of it
and my mom says
she sees a lot of him in my hands
says, I touch the things i find
like they didn't belong
to people sleeping in the ground
she says i touch photo albums
the same way-
you know,
I never used to believe
that history could repeat itself
not until i could
fast forward seventeen years
and still wake up to smoke alarms
how i would go into our kitchen
to find it empty
and the dinner smoldering & my mother in her bedroom
looking through family photos
like it's a just another summer day
and the sirens are just the birds
i don't ask, i never say a word
in this moment
i am an archeologist
afraid to dig up the past
cause history repeats itself-
you see
my brother is dead
and my father is gone
they have been for some years now
and my mother
sometimes forgets
and sets their place at the table
like they're still here,
and in the confusion
ends up ankle deep
in pictures of how it used to be ...
she let's dinner burn
and douses it in red pepper
hoping i won't know the difference
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
This is a path for lost wanderers
When you feel like your heart is lost and nowhere to go
When your thoughts and words are tangled and wouldn’t flow
Where do I step my feet and escape this labyrinth?
Though crest of waves may devour me
Into the deepest void of the turquoise-blue
I am prepared to swirl the seas
Wind might gravitate me away and set me in an unknown place
One step forward for my soul urges me to take the journey
Realms may turn upside down
Hearts may sink or soar
How do I unmoor and
Where do I go?
A lost traveler with the passion of wandering
Aimlessly searching yet desires to be found
Being alive is a peculiar feeling
Even though my soul is in the state of healing
In a world with myriad of twists
Life is hard to decipher and puzzling to exist
But I shall keep my armor on
With the spirit as dauntless as a lion
For a missing wanderer like me
Fate will lead me to where I’m supposed to be
Whether roaming around cities and voyaging continents
Unraveling maps that contain memories
Finding my way back to where it all began
Retracing lost trails with a compass in my hand
No matter where I incessantly roam
My heart will always find a way to a place called home.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
Can you unmoor me from these feeling?
The deep dark anchor-anger
Of powerlessness
To my own self
Of never being able
To escape the darkness completely
And breathe solely in the light
Everyone loves me for my strength, but
Can you love me for my weaknesses?
me.gs
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 5:23 PM UTC