Tag Archives: ramblings

Graded Earth

For the life of me
I can’t figure the parts
Stuck between where I’m going
And the spot I started
As anything other than
Some odd bird’s migration
North for the chill
Against the invitation
To follow the crowd, or
To just freeze
Admit some kind of defeat
But I ruffle the breezes
And walk on alone
I can’t understand
What I was supposed to do,
Was there some parcel of land
I neglected to climb?
Some trail or tour
I’m confused by the feeling
I’m a failure
When there was no clear mandate
Aside from learning
To love and be loved
To mitigate the pain and yearning
Of humanity, aware.

And I’m still here.


Low Tide

These ebbs erode the shoreline,
Carrying the banks to build bars
For the oyster to ingest
Constructing pearl from the hard sands
I once stood upon.

Time erodes my story,
Washing away the grains
Of days and hours and potential roads
And the details are the same
But the game of charades lilts to a side

Our birth pitches us into projects
We cannot honestly complete
Like writing the ill-conceived
Autobiography
About the stranger.

All the roots I sank
And I’m still just a duffle bag
One goodbye away
From a homeless nomad
Too tired to roam

Watching the churning sea
For the bits of debris
That feel like home.


Writer’s Remorse

Glad to hear you’re doing well!
I can’t complain! Doing fine,
Though I’ve got this feeling lately
Maybe it’s finally time
To pull all the words I’ve written,
Pile every piece into one tall pyre,
Every jot and every tittle,
And the light the whole damn thing on fire.

But what’s the point?
I can’t escape who I am.
If I burned every thought to earth
I’d take the ash and begin again.


Well Wandered

If I’d packed my bags then
During those first steps into the rain
How heavy-laden I might have been
To hold anything but love and pain
In these two, fragile hands

Only capable of carrying
What fits inside a coffin, or a womb,
A thing to bear, or to bury
One to produce- one to consume-
On either side of standing.

All those years, the quiet dignity
Growing in adverse conditions
Our roving anonymity
Void of live ammunition-
Defenseless but for invisibility

My identity I had only sworn
To deceased associations
I wandered, well-worn
With You as my nation;
My allegiance pledged in motility.

And my Nation wanders still
To the roadless places,
The empty hands, unfilled
But heavy with the graces
Carried to the last generation:

Shall I again pledge allegiance
To my well-wandered nation?


Temporal Considerations

Rarely named, our fourth dimension
Is handled as intractable soil-
The dimension we cannot reach,
The fruit that does not spoil.
We operate in depth, length and breadth
Familiar with laws of space
But time cannot be manipulated;
It never steps out of place.
And yet time as we know it will end,
Space will ever remain-
We know that it will end,
And we know when it became
All leaving me to consider-
Isn’t it a thing still germinating?
A force produced by all three planes-
A field currently emanating-
A derivative, a byproduct,
An effect caused by the friction
Of all the other planes
Vibrating in constriction-
Like notes in harmony producing
Separate and distinct waves
Sin affecting its gravity;
The Timeless God alone can save.

Isn’t that closer
To the way it behaves?


Something Else, I Think

I forgot to turn on the light.
It’s too dark to read,
Much too dark to see,
And the switch unclicked so far away…
I enjoyed what I got.
Many an epitaph in those words:
I enjoyed what I got,
And got absurd-
But I’ve been a woman
Of many words,
And there’s a kind of toil the life compels-
Not the calloused-hand groans,
The sore, stretched joints
That in lying still
Is its own reward
But the discontent review,
The scouring, sieving, searching moans
Looking to see
If new exists,
And if the old is home
Or may ever be.
The wanderer, clutching a pen
Instead of a penny
Aware of the broken harbors
No soul repairs-
Alive on a dare,
A daring, wild-faced hope
That runs into the dinner party,
Fully in-swing and halfway through,
In bare feet and foreign tongue,
Cognizant of the madness,
And surveys the crowd
Looking for the One worth attending-
Alive on a dare-
Some amateur experiment
In Truth and the limitless potential
Of the Infinite.
While weeping, grateful-
Desperately grateful
Like the finger-ribbed mongrels
Hip bones as hinges
Whimpering and licking the earth
After a morsel of kindness
Grateful
For the sudden beauty
Breaking new over wasted ages:
The stumbling amnesia
The pitching rages and refusals
And then something beautiful
Washes the world clean again.
Persistent tides
Pounding down the rough-hewn edges
Lifting into dancing vapors,
Raining onto meadows,
Washing out the earth-
Which is where I spent the night.


It May Be

Maybe we belong
because we’re here
but we’ve linked belonging
to some intangible nostalgia,
some forgotten garden aroma
of “home”
Souls wafting similar fragrance
take the wandering vagrants
by the nose.
Those who’ve said farewell,
whose Home has retired
to either heaven or hell,
transplant their definition
beyond the earthly conditions.
Everyone feels like they’re hurting,
or working, or searching
for a place they belong-
some fantasy of found-family:
Maybe it’s all wrong.
Maybe present is accounted for,
and there’s nothing deeper to be found
than sharing the same ground,
in the same days.

Maybe we belong wherever we are,
just as much as the next dumb soul.
Maybe the concept of home, or love, or whole
merely reduces into shared ideals
when everything deconstructs
into parts we juggle.

Maybe I got stuck, and struggle
to see what’s real.