recollections in an apartment by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
recollections in an apartment
where is that
that time in the woods
in the grass when the sun shone
diamonds through tree leaves
and branches
click dripped quiet with rain
that
girl in the snow
under the streetlight
when she lost her hat
and he picked it up and placed it
back on her head that was filled
with thoughts about love that lasts forever
and death that never comes.
where's he
green eyes ocean face
night people in the mountains
where the coyotes howl and it carries
with the California wind
California One where I drove and wondered
how close how far
is he standing or sitting now
does he still
hunch his shoulders, afraid of being too tall
she
At Your Apartment on Main St by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
At Your Apartment on Main St
Inside the lights were always dim.
You always dimmed
when you walked into that apartment
on Main Street
where you can see
the water over the roof tops
and the sidewalk is quiet
at two a.m.
except for the last couple from the bar
skipping fresh-eyed, home,
grasping each other
as they slip on the ice.
I remember before the snow came.
The trees outside your window
were a green I'd never seen before.
Or maybe green just looked different
when I was with you.
I woke up before you
and I gazed out your window
and I felt so high.
You asked me what's up
and I was,
I was
just admiring the scenery.
You were too, said you
pulled
poem 156- storm watching by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
poem 156- storm watching
my heart, a screened porch,
rickety door rocking in its hinges
from the wind, strong gusts
the rain pelting the ground outside
bouncing off the muddy pavement
lightning in the distance.
my heart, a porch.
I wait out the weather
I never beat the storm
because I love the rain.
I stand in it; I forget
I'm supposed to run.
the porch, my heart.
it doesn't work, I tried
he's here to stay
but not close enough.
poem 155- bodies of water by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
poem 155- bodies of water
The Atlantic is not my friend.
Body of water, body of disheartened truth
Distance,
you, my oldest enemy
back for more.
You grow
as my plane flies.
England you're not so far
but I accept it for what it was
and I say see you love.
My shoreline blues,
My sure madness.
poem 154- under the bridge by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
poem 154- under the bridge
Under the bridge the water floats light
like ghost mist across night fields
wet light, water lights
glimmer, eyelids blink
blinking light
wet rocks and graffiti
the artists under the bridge
like trolls
they let you cross, no goats
trains blare, boxcars fly
deafening, momentarily
I found a brick house in the water
They say all roads lead home.
French Love Affair by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
French Love Affair
Come back to Paris.
I'll stand close to you on the train
On the train to Juarez
where the wanderers sleep
by the water under the bridge.
I'll pretend to lose my balance
just so I can lean on you
feel you against my back
And then I'll want you more.
Stand with you at the bus stop
press you against the road maps
Rue de Arrive and Rue de Rivoli
And I find your lips like I find on the maps
my way through the city.
I wanted to kiss you
and thought maybe you wanted to kiss me too,
you said.
And you were right.
My neck, my ears-- stunned,
in an alleyway.
I'd known you an hour
when I started to fall.
in the streets of Paris by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
in the streets of Paris
It's a name I can't forget
Lights on the water,
warm ripple glows,
We float
down the river
warm lights in the water
hands close
legs close
we'll see how close we can get,
lips that find each other in the dark of France.
he tells me love stories
Notre Dame and Esmerelda,
sings the songs, quietly,
and with my eyes closed I smile.
Life is sweet.
The city is alive
And we run wild.
ode to an early morning by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
ode to an early morning
Mmm, morning hours
love in the morning light
sunlight, white and fresh, six a.m.
sharp light, knives of light
cutting through purple silk curtains
glints, glistens, flood my bed, my sheets
glow
warm glow,
new, quiet glow.
morning light, morning love,
love the morning light, shine
my skin, his hair on the pillow.
Mmm, morning light, morning love,
love the morning light.
poem 150- love in chapters by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
poem 150- love in chapters
Boy #1
You had green eyes
Sometimes they looked silver
A west coast heart
There were moments in the grass
in the hot summer
beneath diamond leaves
We flew through the air
like kites
to find each other
I landed when I saw the Pacific
I was Atlantic
We were water,
liquid bodies
We ran together
long into the night-- You opened my soul
and drank.
Boy #2
It was an instant
covered by star-skies
You smiled
Finally, a smile
I dove
off the highest board
into crystal waters
I loved?
I did.
You loved more
Or you didn't.
In dark days
my darkest days
my deepest, darkest days.
You know the rest.
Now stand,
cold winter
Feb
recollections in an apartment by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
recollections in an apartment
where is that
that time in the woods
in the grass when the sun shone
diamonds through tree leaves
and branches
click dripped quiet with rain
that
girl in the snow
under the streetlight
when she lost her hat
and he picked it up and placed it
back on her head that was filled
with thoughts about love that lasts forever
and death that never comes.
where's he
green eyes ocean face
night people in the mountains
where the coyotes howl and it carries
with the California wind
California One where I drove and wondered
how close how far
is he standing or sitting now
does he still
hunch his shoulders, afraid of being too tall
she
At Your Apartment on Main St by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
At Your Apartment on Main St
Inside the lights were always dim.
You always dimmed
when you walked into that apartment
on Main Street
where you can see
the water over the roof tops
and the sidewalk is quiet
at two a.m.
except for the last couple from the bar
skipping fresh-eyed, home,
grasping each other
as they slip on the ice.
I remember before the snow came.
The trees outside your window
were a green I'd never seen before.
Or maybe green just looked different
when I was with you.
I woke up before you
and I gazed out your window
and I felt so high.
You asked me what's up
and I was,
I was
just admiring the scenery.
You were too, said you
pulled
poem 156- storm watching by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
poem 156- storm watching
my heart, a screened porch,
rickety door rocking in its hinges
from the wind, strong gusts
the rain pelting the ground outside
bouncing off the muddy pavement
lightning in the distance.
my heart, a porch.
I wait out the weather
I never beat the storm
because I love the rain.
I stand in it; I forget
I'm supposed to run.
the porch, my heart.
it doesn't work, I tried
he's here to stay
but not close enough.
poem 155- bodies of water by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
poem 155- bodies of water
The Atlantic is not my friend.
Body of water, body of disheartened truth
Distance,
you, my oldest enemy
back for more.
You grow
as my plane flies.
England you're not so far
but I accept it for what it was
and I say see you love.
My shoreline blues,
My sure madness.
poem 154- under the bridge by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
poem 154- under the bridge
Under the bridge the water floats light
like ghost mist across night fields
wet light, water lights
glimmer, eyelids blink
blinking light
wet rocks and graffiti
the artists under the bridge
like trolls
they let you cross, no goats
trains blare, boxcars fly
deafening, momentarily
I found a brick house in the water
They say all roads lead home.
French Love Affair by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
French Love Affair
Come back to Paris.
I'll stand close to you on the train
On the train to Juarez
where the wanderers sleep
by the water under the bridge.
I'll pretend to lose my balance
just so I can lean on you
feel you against my back
And then I'll want you more.
Stand with you at the bus stop
press you against the road maps
Rue de Arrive and Rue de Rivoli
And I find your lips like I find on the maps
my way through the city.
I wanted to kiss you
and thought maybe you wanted to kiss me too,
you said.
And you were right.
My neck, my ears-- stunned,
in an alleyway.
I'd known you an hour
when I started to fall.
in the streets of Paris by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
in the streets of Paris
It's a name I can't forget
Lights on the water,
warm ripple glows,
We float
down the river
warm lights in the water
hands close
legs close
we'll see how close we can get,
lips that find each other in the dark of France.
he tells me love stories
Notre Dame and Esmerelda,
sings the songs, quietly,
and with my eyes closed I smile.
Life is sweet.
The city is alive
And we run wild.
ode to an early morning by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
ode to an early morning
Mmm, morning hours
love in the morning light
sunlight, white and fresh, six a.m.
sharp light, knives of light
cutting through purple silk curtains
glints, glistens, flood my bed, my sheets
glow
warm glow,
new, quiet glow.
morning light, morning love,
love the morning light, shine
my skin, his hair on the pillow.
Mmm, morning light, morning love,
love the morning light.
poem 150- love in chapters by PoetryInMyWounds, literature
Literature
poem 150- love in chapters
Boy #1
You had green eyes
Sometimes they looked silver
A west coast heart
There were moments in the grass
in the hot summer
beneath diamond leaves
We flew through the air
like kites
to find each other
I landed when I saw the Pacific
I was Atlantic
We were water,
liquid bodies
We ran together
long into the night-- You opened my soul
and drank.
Boy #2
It was an instant
covered by star-skies
You smiled
Finally, a smile
I dove
off the highest board
into crystal waters
I loved?
I did.
You loved more
Or you didn't.
In dark days
my darkest days
my deepest, darkest days.
You know the rest.
Now stand,
cold winter
Feb
A remark on a passerby by rider-on-the-storm, literature
Literature
A remark on a passerby
She is timely in the way
she triggers acts of beauty.
Fortuitous & with a cynical bliss,
like a spoiled conclusion;
A frivolous blue balling tease.
Though, I still require her
and other subtle delights that raise me superficially
to the left.
We will
write some songs,
and,
sing some words,
and,
we are just fine.
Bleeding our minds on,
to the page,
poetry on each
line.
Get the pen,
and,
let if flow,
like rain in the gutter.
Happiness,
just memories now,
the perfection of those summer,
nights when we
would,
escape from the hands of,
truth and hide
in the quiet
of the nothing which,
surrounded us,
the endlessness of
empty
rooms that aged,
and,
so did we,
it didn't last,
forever,
like we had promised
to each other
our imaginations spread,
like fever.
Current Residence: Central NY but someday I'll live in Maine Favourite genre of music: mostly indie/folk Personal Quote: Sorrow gets too heavy and joy it tends to hold you with the fear that it eventually departs.
Favourite Visual Artist
all the great ones
Favourite Movies
thumbsucker, garden state, donnie darko, big fish, little miss sunshine
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
bright eyes/conor oberst, elliott smith, bob dylan, okkervil river, deer tick
and look back only once.
These words from a poem I wrote in January of '09, ironically titled "islands" seem to fit my present mood pretty well. It's funny re-reading stuff I wrote in the past and realizing how those feelings come back into play from time to time.
I went to Paris. When I came back, I was in New York City for a day. A friend of mine who lives there said, "It's funny, traveling abroad. Because you realize how big the world is. Or how small it is, I guess."
I think it's pretty big. I think it's enormous. I want to go everywhere. I want to see as much and meet as many people as possible. So I've been preoccupied, trying to fig
Current thoughts my brain is considering:
-People fade in and out of touch and you learn to deal with the losses.
-Theoretically if you could travel at the speed of light to some planet and you were gone for three months, you would have aged only three months, but when you returned to earth, something like thousands of years would have passed there... Everyone you knew would be long dead and everything would be totally different. I was told this by a kid in a banana suit.
-Time helps a little but doesn't cure everything.
-Sometimes you just need to sweat.
-Kitties are the best but living in a room with them for months can be wearing on t