When all of your thoughts
turn to coughing and snot
and come flying out of your face,
they’re no longer profound
but they sure get around.
You wish it were poems in their place.
Cousins
After all the cleaning, painting,
fixing, sorting, moving beds,
the best part of your own space
is to share it with your friends.
Day Two
I’ve started it.
It’s already day two.
And so I’ll need
to see it through.
I’ll be here for a while
We bought a house just to make ourselves
stay in one place for a while.
We’ve been here just half a year
and it no longer feels new
so it must be time to move.
But it’s not.
I’ll be here for a while.
And since moving is how I’ve been being born again,
I’m not sure what would resuscitate me
if I died right here, right now.
Would you bury me in the yard? Have I lived here that long?
No. But I’ll be here for a while.
We have settled, but like a house that has settled,
we will need some work.
Our doors don’t quite shut. There are cracks in our walls.
Maybe this is for the best.
But how will we ever get a fresh start when we are staying in the same place?
We will have years. We will hang a new calendar,
sing old songs,
and get to work.
Minefields
Yes, we’ve absolutely entered a minefield,
yet another minefield.
We’ve been walking around in minefields
since the day we begged to differ.
Now we beg to be done with this,
to just all be the same,
accept everything,
except some things.
We’ve been walking around in minefields,
and many of us have died.
We’ve been walking around in minefields
since the day we fell hard upon this earth.
We forget how we got here
and we’re not sure where we’re going.
Maybe the way home is through a minefield.
Maybe we ourselves are mines.
Second World
I wouldn’t have to whine
if the sun would only shine.
But I guess that it does
pretty much all of the time.
That lucky old sun
just keeps rolling around,
so I guess it’s the clouds
that are getting us down.
We think, “If I were homeless,
I could spend more time outside.”
Okay, maybe we don’t think that,
but we think along those lines.
If only, if only,
we didn’t have to strive
as if it’s such a chore
just being here, alive.
We’re sick of first world stressors
but we don’t want third world strife.
Is there a second world that’s just right?
Or do we need a second life?
More Less
posted in: abundance, baby, carpe diem, design, difficulty, family, friends, learning, meta-poetry, poetry, rest, time, vice, work, writing |
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I need to write more poems again.
I miss the way my brain worked then.
I also need to play more songs,
design more websites, right more wrongs,
find more clients, make more cash,
do more with my craft-stuff stash,
speak more Spanish, read more books,
spend time proving I can cook,
make more friends, call friends more,
do more with my Etsy store,
give my toddler more of me,
be the best that I can be,
yes, the very, very best–
okay, so what should I do less?