alas I leave a place
so long endured and enjoyed
and learned my studies and my friends
who’ve grown with me as I have with them
and shall never see the majority again
as we part ways to strengthen- like a stem -the foundation
of the future which will blossom like a large carnation
Today,
beauty cut through me
awe came a bleedin
stardust slipped from my eyes
dark-hued clouds dissipated
At last!
Hope, grace, peace
move closer
warm my skin
Life spent in the LostAndFound
left a pain-print on my soul.
Drunk from the unhappiness,
I threw the innocence away.
Oh joy come nearer
I’ll hold and cherish thee!
i watched with pride
but entirely aware
of a sense of shame
in praising what should
surely be an expectation
and not the celebrated exception.
i work with this girl who is always
working hard
sometimes all night long, often on the weekends.
she drinks lots of coffee and laughs loud and desperately
but i think she is happy in her small way
tonight her friend asked her to hang out
she said yes, until she remembered
the “optional” work meeting she had agreed to attend.
sorry friend.
but i think it’s better for her that way.
i’d hate for her to find out how much of life she misses every day.
I sit here, planning out my students’
future for the next 6 weeks;
it’s strange to exercise this power
over what fifty people will be
reading, thinking, and doing;
power to mark and label each person as
failures, slackers, average, good, or excellent;
power to influence what opportunities will be open
to each of my students for their futures;
I am not only the master of their future
for the next six weeks, but I am the master
of their futures for the rest of their lives,
in which every moment will be influenced
by what I do in the next six weeks.
Do I feel exhilerated or scared by this?
Mostly just unprepared.
cannibals are people who
eat regular folk for food
but i’ve seen to many pigs
at this human trough
to trust the meat at just
any market. if i ate people
i’d pick and choose from those
who are range fed. not kept
in captivity.
within poems to strangers is said more clearly what
is felt than can be spoken.
written and floating in space not real maybe unread
but better than thoughts kept silent and alone
i don’t mind getting wet in the rain
food off the floor is just fine
i swim in the schulykill
wash my hair once a week
i don’t care for combing
or shaving much
and my favorite shirts all have holes
people say i should care more,
should take more care.
in return, i wish they cared
more about other things.
more about others than things
car scratched and dented
with bumper dragging and headlight gone
i will care so much forever
trying to smile with windows down moving fast
I love you and I’m afraid
of the wild, aloof, hollow part of me that wouldn’t yield
unexpected, unexpectedly like layers of frost in a summer’s field
If you were the sun wouldn’t you wonder
“Do I not shine properly, completely?”
I love you and I’m afraid
of the gray, rocky, silent corner of me that doesn’t need
unexpected, unexpectedly like the sight of a ghost in the night’s warm bleed
If you were darkness wouldn’t you wonder
“Do I not bedim properly, completely?”
I love you and I’m afraid
of the sinuous, slippery, cracking part of me that wouldn’t rein in
expected, expectedly like fuel hours lost in the clock’s stern reign
If you were time wouldn’t you wonder
“Do I betray properly, completely?”
dealing with bearded
folk is like dealing with
chester the molester
(who clearly is clean
of chin but mustached)
who is no molester at all
but rather a man of extreme
listlessness
confused because he has been
single for much too long
but the man with the beard
married (as usual) but completely
living like he’s single
these people are the antithesis
of what we call
“whipped”
and while they see it as freedom
they’re wrong.
