the call of geese
reminds me;
of time and time –
it reminds me
of this thing
we call time.
Tag: memory
a figure with
long legs stretches
shadows blur the
hands upon skin
two figures now
shadows merge
them together
one being with
long legs stretching
breathe.
i have not forgotten how to,
but i wonder
how i learned.
these breaths i hold,
have you also tasted
the same air?
how did i learn this?
who held my mouth open
and put these words
in it,
words like “i”
and “you.”
i find the words alone.
i sip hot tea alone.
there are no longer questions
about its worth.
alone is sacred.
I thought, ‘this is all there is.’
It was such a normal thought,
as though I had had this belief a hundred times.
It is a reexamination of so very much.
It might seem apathetic or numb.
it wasn’t –
It was true,
human – it is so very human.
the
the driiiiiping snowmelt
snow –
melt
with a bird singing…… it says
something –
always some thing something
some
thing
i waaaant to
speak the laaaaangue
of birds.
we still breathe as one
inhalations together
exhalations together
a rhythmic cycle
that is endless
it’s 3°f outside.
the house seems
to be moaning;
it’s releasing these
sounds i have never heard.
“i understand,”
i say aloud,
consoling the empty space.
it’s brutally cold outside.
i was thinking
that maybe
i should build a fire.
i should do
a lot of things –
a lot of things.
but instead
i just sit and drink coffee.
it is tepid;
black,
and strong.
from the couch,
under my blanket,
sipping coffee so strong
it could strip paint,
i look at the fireplace
and think about the things
i should do.
but doing
often takes saying
and i hate my words.
too many thoughts,
too many feelings,
and a distrust
of my mouth and
that which will fall
from it.
so i sit and
i sip my coffee.
and listen to the house,
as the frigid day
takes its toll on her.
i had words that were pretty.
oh, i think i wanted
to dress this up,
to make my thoughts
rich and potent.
but this isn’t a topic
that needs it,
though it enters my mind often.
now it is midday
and a nap is calling.
my eyes
are watering with tiredness,
the gentle bobbing
of my head tells me
that i should rest.
but i am here
wondering about age
about time
and the our experiences since we
last met;
about the gray hairs
you have now
and my baldness.
i wonder about wrinkles;
mine from life, from
living hard,
the trials found within.
and yours from living
just living – boring living –
age without knowledge.
you see,
your corner office
has emptied you.
the shell was there
but the existence emptied you.
the love you proclaimed
was not love,
it did not nourish you
as love would.
the hands that would’ve
held yours through every trial
are rough from age,
and now they are holding
those of another.
soon i will rest.
these thoughts come often;
usually before my naps,
when my mind and heart
are tired and
begin to wonder about age,
time, and about a life
that i once desired to embraced with you.
a shadow,
there on its own.
questions of how and
of why
remain quiet and still.
i am sure
that breath expelled in day
and sighs released at night
will be out of curiosity
or longing.
perhaps just fleeting thoughts
in quiet moments,
then moments that become hours
and then days,
will nag.
the figure of flesh and bones,
now just a shadow.