been a long while since I've come this close to tearing up when writing a poem. wanted to share. take it at face value. not good. not bad. just there.

on a mesa overlooking
all of utah
my whisper formed steam

singing youth into the morning
watching shadows flicker
as bright as plum tree petals

and vines in the gulleys
interlocking roots tracing constellations

my mind wandered when I loved you

and your freckles are shining stars
holding their own
against the riptide of a world that
every one of our toes leaves blossoms

on the surface of a world whose wind is fast and unforgiving

when you left
i drank through the gutters of New York City,
rubbed my eyes black and blue,
and strangers cast down spare coins and pity
while you hid in church bell chimes
learning theater at Wellesley,
and we both stuggled through vices that ripped tufts of skin
until rawness was the thunder of a subway tunnel

if this is the it that buries,
the fire when no engine blares,
the robbery where no signal flares are cast into the snow,

then hear how desperate I am still

how small, like a snake
wriggling his way back to God's shining garden

and hear how strong I have become

having stared down the coldest
nights in deserts,
sobbing "jesus save me"
and having no one arrive to nurse me

and hear our love
still ringing, ringing, ringing,
through no fault or will of our own

like the image of a grandmother hooked up to tubes and wires,
not remembering the footsteps, only how the footsteps stirred the gravel,
left our ankles bruised,
vague desire
to know that if this is the it that buries

magic we smoked so much of it gave birth to blood cells of its own
that we in turn broke open

our bodies were not enough

but let this night come softly
as a boulder kissing the mouth of a cave
Last edited by #1 synth at Feb 9, 2012,
"not good"? are you out of your ****ing head?
the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn

i'd ditch gently in the last line. kissing (and softly) do the work of it.

this kills me.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
"Pain or damage don't end the world nor despair, nor fuckin' beatings. The world ends when you're dead, until then you have more punishment in store. Stand it like a man, and give some back."
The New York City stanza is awkward, but I like the rest.
not going viral

Hot E-Cousin of rjaylaf

Non Evil E-Twin of stealstrings

E-NEMESIS of deathdrummer
thank you guys. I really do love this poem. but it is a private poem and not a public poem, if you know what I mean, it's not like a poem you read to a crowd in a library reading
Hi, synth, I've been reading you on and off for the past couple of months. You're really doing something different and for that you must be commended - it's good for the forum and of course, you can write. I particularly like these lines:

"when you left
i drank through the gutters of New York City,
rubbed my eyes black and blue,
and strangers cast down spare coins and pity"

Which are a good example of your ability to paint a picture. This piece had a nice balance of wandering where you wanted to go, and not sacrificing connectivity. All in all, a great read.