Friday, December 3, 2010

Decembering.

Hold the phone;

baby, did you see the snow?

It's cold

blowing on the breeze.

I know

someday we will see it

waking to the sound

of our Decembering.



I'll show up,

raise a cup

to the life in you.

Hide your eyes;

I can't take the light inside.

I think that I'll take you in

and never let you go.


I know, I know

this will be a time to hold.



Baby, I can love you,

I know how to love you.

Call me crazy, call me strange.

I know how to love you,

I know how to take you into arms.

I know how to love you,

love you forever.


I know it's what they say,

all those crazy lovers,

when the morning comes

and snow is brushing the ground:

they say, "Next year, baby,

we'll have a life together.

One more holiday

you will celebrate

then I'll be right beside you.

Wait, wait, wait, wait."


So I will,

'cos I know how to love you,

I know how to love you,

call me crazy, call me strange,

but I know I can.

I was made to love you,

through the mornings; through the nights,

through the cold and summer times,

I was made for moments just like these:

For Decembering.


Put the coffee on.

I know that you don't like it,

but you make it just for me,

to keep me awake through the night

so we can keep on loving,

and talking.

Pull the covers close.

We know how to keep alive.


Some say they know love is just a season,

some say it won't last.

Some say we could never know what we're talking about.

Some say Christmas means more love,

but when it's over it'll be gone.

Funny thing is, this is how we feel

all the year long,

all the year long,


'Cos I know how to love you,

I know how to love you.

Call me crazy, call me strange,

but I know that it's true.

I know how to love,

I know how to keep you home.

I know how to pull you in

and keep you close to my soul.

You and you alone.


You and you alone.



December 3, 2010


Wednesday, November 10, 2010

You.

How can I stand to keep myself
held back;
the memory retracing all we have?
We smile, because we know how,
because we learned to
even when they said we were
disaster.

How could I go so many months
without you?
You sit two feet away in the cold,
our eyes meeting,
then fleeting
from the tears we would cry
because we're smiling again.

It's the warmth of your arms
that I think of
when you're nodding as I talk,
and shrug,
and I wish to push aside the
feel of your face nestled
next to mine,
in case I lose my train of thought.

How can I go without you,
as I've remet you?
In some space of distance
and the foolish things we've said
and done,
my paper heart is painted
in your colours,
trembling for you;
wanting only you.

How is it you do to me all the things
you do to me;
the ache and bubbling of happiness
beyond control?
You're my best friend,
and someone that I long for
when I'm by myself,
when I'm not myself;
when you remind me of who I am.

How can I prove your soul
was made to mesh with mine?
The leaves blow away,
and though red, and though brown,
they prove their shades come
from trees; just trees--
so different, yet the very same.

It's your eyes that startle me
like so long ago;
it's the look that you give that makes me
look away.
I wish I could stare, but I'm afraid
they'll all come to know
the treasure that I hold as
I'm trembling for you;
wanting only you.

November 10, 2010

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Poetry Reading

Old men make poetry
from spiderwebs and
Korean war.
Old minds totter
on gossamer lines
as old bones settle
on the wooden chair.
He reads of childhoods
in ancient kingdoms,
his old, thick tongue
slurring foreign names.
Words growl out in
old man timbre,
creaking out
like trees grown amber
about to drop
their green youth
slowly
to the forest floor.

November 3, 2010

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Little Wonders of the World.

If I could piece together the wonders of the world,

you would be surprised to find

there would be more than seven

and they would be significantly

small.


If I could piece together the wonders of the world,

I would match the tender jolt

when our eyes locked from across the street

and the way my fingers traced along

the lines of muscle and vein on your arm

when you tucked me in the corner

of your elbow.


I would stitch the sound of when

my ear found the deep lines of a cello

lying in the bottom of a symphony

and the car rides when I would watch

the raindrops race on my backseat window

until I was mesmerized to sleep.


I would fold the ache of when you walked out

the door and I missed you from five feet away

with the taste of my first sip of wine

when it hit my tongue like the feeling of tears

and warmth down inside heartsick

and young, young love.


I would trace the sky catching on fire

with the free-fall feeling of my first

roller coaster ride,

my heart popping out of my chest

with an exhilaration that told me

I'd found some passion in this life.


I would tangle the ache of sitting

two feet from you, trying not to

look into each other's eyes too long

with the way my childish fingers once

desperately wanted to touch the treasures

behind museum glass.


I would mesh the jump of my heart

when a baby smiles up at me and

the happy impatience to reach the end

of my favourite book,

knowing I like the way it goes.


I would melt the taste of deep, warm

chocolate in its ever-rich comfort

with the way it feels to walk through the front door

and snuggle in with the blinds closed tight,

until me and my blanket have amalgamated

into one dreamy pile.


I would tag the feel of my pen in my hand

and my desk chair rolling under my thoughts

with the wist of sitting on a park bench,

staring mindless and mindful,

as the stars practically fell out of the sky

above us.


But of all the little wonders of the world,

I would pair the quiet breath I felt you breathe

against me after that first slow kiss

and the moment your eyes brimmed with

bright, hot tears when you turned and

said that you loved me.


October 2010

Monday, October 25, 2010

Old Souls.

Sit me down on the long, low wall and

let me feel the lamplight find my eyes.

Talk to me, because I love to talk to you.

I love those little words you choose.


Slow me down on the long, cold sidewalk

and make me take a breath so I realize

who we are because of who we are.

You know I laugh because of you.


Lay me down on the damp night grass

and see if eyes or stars are the fairest sight.

Smile at me, because I love to smile at you.

Try to leave, but it's no use.


October 25, 2010

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

I'm lonely without you.

I think you might know;

I think you might inch up to my thoughts

every day just to peek over the rim.

I'm full-up with feelings

I nurture and smile at when

I have a second to think.


You press up against me

every day; you nudge me

and I feel my heart come up

to meet you.

You're with me,

in some form; ever-present

when I talk,

and sleep,

and eat,

and wonder.


You're here; right here,

the thought I enjoy

and the thought I suppress

to hide that I'd like to laugh,

or cry,

when I imagine if I

lean my head on your chest.


I think I feel you.

I know that I know you.

I'd like to be yours

when I meet you between

where our eyes meet

and what isn't forgotten;

a promise

we broke and decided.


My hair is long.

The cold creeps in

around again and tells me

of your arms

and warmth.

You're a long way off

and a long way gone,

but my heart thinks I'm yours.

I'd have to agree.



2010

Friday, October 1, 2010

Fall Cleaning.

I stir my coffee with my finger,
the windows propped
three inches open.

Hello, my life.
The sweet, sweet rush
of leaves
dust fresh air off
the clouds.

It puffs and sweeps
into my room,
the catch-all for
October's lightness.

A dustpan
never felt so good.

October 1, 2010