come to see

today i have come to see
a pain away and into
for some mysterious shift has occurred
a change so swift
i have to double check.
i can take myself away from it, and i can put myself back into it
but i can.
and i realize that.
i have chosen.
frighteningly close to giving in to heartbreak.
now is the time to twine into learning and pain and loving this game and filling the holes with sunshine to burst out into the winter of my life.
the solitude and the introspective me
this
i have come to see.

chunky lentil soup

regret like the lumps of underdone carrots remain in my mouth for far too long.
this extra lung of pain cannot just dissipate, it ruminates to the contrary.
oh no
oh no
sometimes we dig our own graves.
i wish i had wanted to eat this soup as much as i wanted to make it.

the flowers all pop up in rows without me
and they don't even know.
that this fame and glory and guts has all been for naught.
i don't want to win.
i just want to rewind,
to the place
where i was in that brief moment when our eyes matched
with windows finally open to souls that were full
and on the same page.
for that one moment.

but i can't get that back
and i can't sit around wanting that back.
because it is not my chair
it is not my window
it is only my soul that is left
frankly,
and i know this way well.
i have made my soup.
and now i must eat it.
tears and all.
oh,
if only they would come.

this heat

this heat reminds me of
the cold i felt this morning.
the crisp wind blew and friends came too
this morning on my face.
a heart so full of joy and wonder
dew frozen solid and saved just for me
to glance and to stare for as long as you stayed.
what a secret, what surprise i never did expect.
i hoped to hope and dared to dream but
snow,
here,
in austin?
TEXAS?

but i think the best thing about this cold heat
is that it still glows on my cheeks.  hours upon hours after we were together.
the outside and i.
if i could bring you in and hold you close, and always be with you i would.
but then i would never miss you.
and it's always nice to want you.
outside, i take it back.  i will appreciate you for what you are, but we can't always be together.  sometimes i have to sit in a comfy chair and sip something warm and tasty.  so thanks.  thanks for leaving me with a reminder of you on my cheeks.

the room

the room is endless and narrow

i feel the ceiling looking at me

this way is the only way to go

forward.

i have paused.

for far too long.

in front of a closed door

again.

why can't it be open?

why can't it be another door?

why can't it be a long time ago?

these doors are everywhere

they are all shut.

shit.

well, hm.

i will have to keep walking then.

because actually,

i want the door to swing open to ME

when i am not stopped

waiting

waiting

forever

staring

i want the air in the room

the light in the room

to GUSH with change and brillance

and fresh breath.

as the one opens!

to come chasing after me!

oh yes.

and i know it in my bones,

i have always known it will be so.

this room is long and wide open, carefree onwards saunter i.

allowed

allow yourself to hope.

for that day when you will go on a hike

with your husband and toddler.

allow yourself to hope.

for the moment when you realize your

fears won't be.

allow yourself to hope.

for the time when you show up with

someone else

no longer empty handed.

allow yourself to hope, filkins, because it won't be forever that you are here. and it hurts either way. let love in. let hope begin. let it stay.

crack open november

and let it breathe. like this book sitting in my hands

on my heart

written by one i know.

show me a part of your soul i can't handle and make it move the ground

this place is a new one

eager am i to turn off replay

and shove my depths into concentrating on your words.

a book is a feast for many enjoyed one at a time and spared not in the cloaked words of the past and present and future.

for this time is one we all will share and live through.

the tunnel narrows.

i turn off the computer.

and delve into the paper and ink.

oh, delicious.

experimental poetry (round 2)

frick

sick

celebrations of libations and moaning too far away and into the morning.

this emotion has lent itself one too many times

and i can see it to the door, thank you.

shucks

pucks

of ice and lollipops shoot across the yard in the middle of late summer

what might be a brief fall

flying through the cheese balls into the mouths of the waiting birds so patiently sitting.

rots

lots

of empty ones and new ones, yards in disarray and tidy fashion grass to fence to grass.

shower the other with care as much as you water your own or at the very least

relish it once a year with the christening of bare toes snuggled in the depths of its comfort.