Friday, October 21, 2016

Running, Flying, Landing

The house I grew up in was at the top of a hill.

The corner market was down the hill. 

My school was down the hill.

The polyg house was down the hill.

I remember the cool mornings of autumn.

I would walk out the front door and down the steps.

My breath rises like smoke from a locomotive.

I would turn to the west and look down the hill,

I ran.

I took off like a sprinter hearing the starter pistol.

It was a little over a block from my house to the polyg house.

I ran faster and faster.

Halfway down the hill, the large polyg house would come into view and I would start jumping.

Going faster and farther with each jump the cold air would sand skin from my cheeks.

The bottom of the hill approached closer with each jump.

For a moment I was freed from the earth and I would fly. 

I reached the bottom of the hill, my cheeks burning but my flesh was intact.

I failed to run out of my skin, nothing was revealed.

Rosy cheeks were the only evidence of the effort spent.

I stopped at the bottom of the hill everything I ran from was still there with me.

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Poetry of Lost Loves of Linear Time

I am alone.

I wallow in my solitude to find the joy.

The punishment that karma deals me has me rick rolling around it like a pig in shit.

I have forty-three years in linear time.

People loved and hated with me along the road.

Alone is a state like liquid, gas, solid and alone.

The transcendental control of your existence like Elie's Night lets you choose your state.

Friends love me and could change my state to solid and leave alone to the side.

Among these friends that love some wait to be in love with me.

There is only one chance to break from hating with me to hating me, be in love with me.

Some friends wait in serenity and until that moment of being in love comes I never know.

There are others that time and circumstance and the pressure of solitude have left us in our alones.

There are times I grab golden idols and leave friends in love at the rest stop hitching on their backs

Traveling on your back breaks your bridges and leaves you alone shouting across ravines.

Golden idols are heavy to carry and time rolls on and I set them down,

I travel to the rest stop for love waiting there

Love is there and she is waiting across the ravine at the footing of a broken bridge.

She is looking past, me through me and I look into the ravine that I started with the golden shovel.

Decisions are a bitch, time, linear as it is, brings the wheel of consequence and I choose alone.