I am tired of people not being people, hiding themselves
boring, fake, pretending to be normal. Why?
How do you not scream at the world for an escape?
How do you value a pale shell
in the face of the golden center?
Identities conforming to separation.
With one substantive relief:
//
Think, what is an identity?
You wash away rifts with liquid fog.
your masks melting in your stupor.
It makes us sick–me sick–to lose those
crystalline expectations–
That your and my eyes would see each other
unfettered by fog and masks.
It’s one or the other and I’ll keep my mask on.
My head reels as shards refract the light.
//
As I write this, the air in my room grows cold.
Beyond Middlebury–broken glass.
Go
to class. Observe
the learning.
Don’t lose
interest. Feel
something. React to
it. Nod your head.
Clutch
the pen. Rest
your chin
on a closed fist.
Don’t get lost
out the window. Go
back to learning.
Panic.
Bury your ears
in piano music.
Realize the time
is gone.
Don’t think
about pills. Remember
how you got here.
Don’t look at her
like that
every time. Control
yourself. Don’t change
the subject so much. If not
go to class
shiver down the sidewalk
have the best intentions
relax your fist
rest your head
realize it’s different now
ask someone how they’re doing
forget to listen
watch her move
fuck how you got here
go to the window
for sunset
Belong in the learning
Learn
to belong
Bury the time
Clutch piano music
Shiver about
the pills
Don’t panic
Don’t feel
control
control
I think I aged when my mother first asked me for advice
I didn’t know what I was doing and neither did she
but somehow everyone seems to think I had all the answers
the weight always falls upon my shoulders
I walk tied to a chair
we are not in kansas anymore
sorry I can’t come tonight, I just don’t want to leave my mom alone and my dad’s still at work
sometimes I get scared that only I now understand her
that she feels like she has no purpose without me by her side
guilt and grief consume me
I loved my 6 am volleyball practices
because I knew they got her out of bed too
there were days when leaving the house felt like a crime
I find her alone in the kitchen.
Turn on the lights. Run the bath and wait outside. Draw the curtains. Untwist the bottle.
Sit in her bed, stroke her hair. Talk about the weather or your friends or school. Or just make up stories.
Let her tears run but hide your own.
Wait until she comes into your room around two and hold her until the exhaustion makes her fall asleep. Pretend to sleep too.
She tells you she’s now an orphan, promise her you will never leave.
Don’t grow up, it only hurts her more.
Keep lying to yourself until you start to believe the lies. Try your best to fix her.
Don’t
talk about her parents.
miss a call or a text.
or stop smiling until she starts smiling too.
There are too many dark days in the calendar but don’t forget any of them.
Don’t leave.
I’ve lived in these Adirondacks for 8 years now
I see them now if I close my eyes
We ran through shades of green
The most magical place I’ve ever seen
I’ve sailed the chilly lake
sang songs with the crowd
It is a place I feel most myself
A place I didn’t expect to lose my health
It was a warm bright morning
The sun beat down and the birds sang song
Curled in a ball trying to stay calm
Eyes squeezed closed silently calling for mom
It was all a blur, the helicopter, the doctor, the operating room
FInding comfort only in what flowed into the vein of my arm
A remember the tubes and wires and drugs as I fell asleep
But all I could focus on where the droning beeps
But I often try to forget
and those memories still visit me at night
I stare at the ceiling trying to forget in bed
I wonder why they won’t leave my head
I sleep with two pillows, one in my arm
To pretend that we are still together.
It is not their fault and I mean no harm,
While I go dance with them I think of her.
I told myself poison is for weekends,
I guess Thursday is not during the week,
Or any day that we text like just friends.
In the shower a tear rolls down my cheek.
When we dance I can’t look into their eyes,
All the guilt I feel in only one glance.
Cloud my thoughts with poison less they realize,
They’re not the ones with whom I want to dance.
Dance with them was great although I acted,
But was I happy or just distracted.
My poem imitates “a song in the front yard” by Gwendolyn Brooks, and is titled “a song in California”
I’ve stayed in California all my life
And, well, I wanted a peek at this other coast
Where it’s snowy and icy and the chill wind blows
A guy gets sick of sand between his toes.
I want to go up and down this coast
And drive through all the turnpikes
To where the real eastern charm lies on every corner.
I want a good time over spring break and this summer.
I’ve heard there are some amazing events
And some questionable people.
My J.O.B. floormates sneer, but I say it’s fine
How they don’t have a modern subway network.
Or underground heating to melt the ice on the roads.
My floormates, they all tell me that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be
And that I’ll end up getting mugged, maybe.
Or that I’ll get blown by the wind into an empty sewer during a nor’easter.
But I say “nah dude it sounds totally dope.” Trust.
And I’d like to be a proper Californian, too,
And wear the hardy down parkas of Canada Goose
And experience the sleet across my faces
And strut down these streets with ice on my laces.
My poem mimics “a song in the front yard” by Gwendolyn Brooks stylistically, but has a different theme.
a song in the room
I’ve stayed in rooms all my life
I want a peek at the outside
Where it’s rugged and prickly and mountains pierce skies.
A girl gets sick of walls.
I want to go into a remote area now
And maybe run through cliffs,
Down to where waves break, rays play.
I want a fun time today.
They do some risky things.
They have some great fun.
Society rolls her eyes,
How they don’t work nine to five.
Will never be able to retire
I’m reminded that Chris McCandless
Will never grow old.
That Lloyd will go broke soon or late
(When he stays in a house it’s that of his best mate).
Idealistically it’s perfect. That’s truth.
And in another life I’d be a vagabond, too,
And sleep under starry skies every night
And awaken come morning by the sun’s light.
Sit
In your room,
Listen to sad songs,
Listen to Kanye,
Listen to whatever
To distract yourself.
Look
Outside the window
Once, exclaim about how the sun has already set,
And the day passed
So fast.
Go back to your seat,
Let
Your thoughts run wild,
Not like you
Can control it.
Try to distract yourself
Try to
Open a book
Unzip guitar bag
Now back to the thoughts
Pushups
Feeling anxious
Anxious
Keep thinking
Lie in bed
Walk outside
But who’s walking
Alone?
Go to bed
Go to bed
Go to bed
Will it all be better tomorrow?
You are not the person
I expected. I am still
slowly peeling
Away your mask.
Who do I trust here
When words spread
Faster than a forest fire?
I want to be vulnerable.
I want you to reflect
The good in me and I
Will try and do the same.
But I am done
Waiting for the VIP rope
To be held open for me.
This is not the world
I grew up in. But I am
Learning quickly.
I miss my far away souls.
But one thing I know
Is that I will not stoop
Into the abyss of
Pettiness.
I know You are
Out there, please
Find me, I
get dressed
not in that shirt
(shoulders)
you’re taking up too much space
Again
go home.
it’s too distracting.
raise your hand and
know the answer
but don’t expect
to say it-
he knows it
and can say it louder.
remember,
don’t take up space.
put your keys
between your fingers
when walking at night
(just in case).
how many kids will you have?
when he tells you from
across the street that
you are beautiful
take it as a compliment.
Smile
More
you were drunk and
he was drunk
what did you
expect to happen?
boys will be boys.
it’s hard for them,
be more sensitive
No
that’s too
Emotional.
you are going to stay home with the kids
right?
if you are confused
it’s just because of
that silly
brain of yours
ee probably knows
more and better
(you can take up
space here make
him feel good)
when something happens
when they cross
the
line
say something
(it’s the right thing to do)
but you should
expect nothing
it isn’t about you
it was probably
your fault.
you probably
were taking up
too much
space.
we need to protect them
not us.
(i don’t know who we is)
have lots of sex
find power in your body
(remember to focus on him)
but he told his
friends to
watch out for that one,
she’ll fuck anyone.
it must’ve been the clothes
she was wearing.
there she goes again
taking up space.
What a bitch.
Don’t take off
your pajamas. Turn off
all of your devices.
Don’t even
check your email. Or
social media.
Make your
favorite breakfast, even
if you haven’t been
to the gym. Lay
in bed for at least two
hours. Maybe three.
Water your plants.
Take a shower, but
immediately put
on clean sweatpants.
Sit in front of
the TV. Watch
your guilty pleasure show.
Eat ice cream
straight from the carton.
Sit in front
of the fire wrapped
in a blanket. Maybe
play some music.
Watch people walk
by. The world
walks by.
Busy. Rushing.
But not you.
Take it slow.
Nothing is your
responsibility today.
home.
inspired by “a song in the front yard”
i’d like to sleep in the woods.
(a soft bed)
made of leaves
i’d like to watch the stars.
(like city lights)
dance in the dark
i’d like to live where there is life.
(a crowd to watch)
under each rock
i’d like to feel wanderlust.
(on the subway)
with nowhere to be
i’d like to breathe in a jungle.
(thick with concrete)
ahhh fresh air
i’d like to run through rain.
(softening the the city)
churning dirt to mud
i’d like to sit in silence.
(or between it)
and be
Not an elegy for my dorm room window.
I am tired of people not being people, hiding themselves
boring, fake, pretending to be normal. Why?
How do you not scream at the world for an escape?
How do you value a pale shell
in the face of the golden center?
Identities conforming to separation.
With one substantive relief:
//
Think, what is an identity?
You wash away rifts with liquid fog.
your masks melting in your stupor.
It makes us sick–me sick–to lose those
crystalline expectations–
That your and my eyes would see each other
unfettered by fog and masks.
It’s one or the other and I’ll keep my mask on.
My head reels as shards refract the light.
//
As I write this, the air in my room grows cold.
Beyond Middlebury–broken glass.
If You Are Over Being Useless
Go
to class. Observe
the learning.
Don’t lose
interest. Feel
something. React to
it. Nod your head.
Clutch
the pen. Rest
your chin
on a closed fist.
Don’t get lost
out the window. Go
back to learning.
Panic.
Bury your ears
in piano music.
Realize the time
is gone.
Don’t think
about pills. Remember
how you got here.
Don’t look at her
like that
every time. Control
yourself. Don’t change
the subject so much. If not
go to class
shiver down the sidewalk
have the best intentions
relax your fist
rest your head
realize it’s different now
ask someone how they’re doing
forget to listen
watch her move
fuck how you got here
go to the window
for sunset
Belong in the learning
Learn
to belong
Bury the time
Clutch piano music
Shiver about
the pills
Don’t panic
Don’t feel
control
control
if you are your mother’s parent
I think I aged when my mother first asked me for advice
I didn’t know what I was doing and neither did she
but somehow everyone seems to think I had all the answers
the weight always falls upon my shoulders
I walk tied to a chair
we are not in kansas anymore
sorry I can’t come tonight, I just don’t want to leave my mom alone and my dad’s still at work
sometimes I get scared that only I now understand her
that she feels like she has no purpose without me by her side
guilt and grief consume me
I loved my 6 am volleyball practices
because I knew they got her out of bed too
there were days when leaving the house felt like a crime
I find her alone in the kitchen.
Turn on the lights. Run the bath and wait outside. Draw the curtains. Untwist the bottle.
Sit in her bed, stroke her hair. Talk about the weather or your friends or school. Or just make up stories.
Let her tears run but hide your own.
Wait until she comes into your room around two and hold her until the exhaustion makes her fall asleep. Pretend to sleep too.
She tells you she’s now an orphan, promise her you will never leave.
Don’t grow up, it only hurts her more.
Keep lying to yourself until you start to believe the lies. Try your best to fix her.
Don’t
talk about her parents.
miss a call or a text.
or stop smiling until she starts smiling too.
There are too many dark days in the calendar but don’t forget any of them.
Don’t leave.
A Hymn at Summer Camp
I’ve lived in these Adirondacks for 8 years now
I see them now if I close my eyes
We ran through shades of green
The most magical place I’ve ever seen
I’ve sailed the chilly lake
sang songs with the crowd
It is a place I feel most myself
A place I didn’t expect to lose my health
It was a warm bright morning
The sun beat down and the birds sang song
Curled in a ball trying to stay calm
Eyes squeezed closed silently calling for mom
It was all a blur, the helicopter, the doctor, the operating room
FInding comfort only in what flowed into the vein of my arm
A remember the tubes and wires and drugs as I fell asleep
But all I could focus on where the droning beeps
But I often try to forget
and those memories still visit me at night
I stare at the ceiling trying to forget in bed
I wonder why they won’t leave my head
Dancing on the Weekend
I sleep with two pillows, one in my arm
To pretend that we are still together.
It is not their fault and I mean no harm,
While I go dance with them I think of her.
I told myself poison is for weekends,
I guess Thursday is not during the week,
Or any day that we text like just friends.
In the shower a tear rolls down my cheek.
When we dance I can’t look into their eyes,
All the guilt I feel in only one glance.
Cloud my thoughts with poison less they realize,
They’re not the ones with whom I want to dance.
Dance with them was great although I acted,
But was I happy or just distracted.
My poem imitates “a song in the front yard” by Gwendolyn Brooks, and is titled “a song in California”
I’ve stayed in California all my life
And, well, I wanted a peek at this other coast
Where it’s snowy and icy and the chill wind blows
A guy gets sick of sand between his toes.
I want to go up and down this coast
And drive through all the turnpikes
To where the real eastern charm lies on every corner.
I want a good time over spring break and this summer.
I’ve heard there are some amazing events
And some questionable people.
My J.O.B. floormates sneer, but I say it’s fine
How they don’t have a modern subway network.
Or underground heating to melt the ice on the roads.
My floormates, they all tell me that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be
And that I’ll end up getting mugged, maybe.
Or that I’ll get blown by the wind into an empty sewer during a nor’easter.
But I say “nah dude it sounds totally dope.” Trust.
And I’d like to be a proper Californian, too,
And wear the hardy down parkas of Canada Goose
And experience the sleet across my faces
And strut down these streets with ice on my laces.
My poem mimics “a song in the front yard” by Gwendolyn Brooks stylistically, but has a different theme.
a song in the room
I’ve stayed in rooms all my life
I want a peek at the outside
Where it’s rugged and prickly and mountains pierce skies.
A girl gets sick of walls.
I want to go into a remote area now
And maybe run through cliffs,
Down to where waves break, rays play.
I want a fun time today.
They do some risky things.
They have some great fun.
Society rolls her eyes,
How they don’t work nine to five.
Will never be able to retire
I’m reminded that Chris McCandless
Will never grow old.
That Lloyd will go broke soon or late
(When he stays in a house it’s that of his best mate).
Idealistically it’s perfect. That’s truth.
And in another life I’d be a vagabond, too,
And sleep under starry skies every night
And awaken come morning by the sun’s light.
If you are Over Wanting to be Loved
Sit
In your room,
Listen to sad songs,
Listen to Kanye,
Listen to whatever
To distract yourself.
Look
Outside the window
Once, exclaim about how the sun has already set,
And the day passed
So fast.
Go back to your seat,
Let
Your thoughts run wild,
Not like you
Can control it.
Try to distract yourself
Try to
Open a book
Unzip guitar bag
Now back to the thoughts
Pushups
Feeling anxious
Anxious
Keep thinking
Lie in bed
Walk outside
But who’s walking
Alone?
Go to bed
Go to bed
Go to bed
Will it all be better tomorrow?
“What I didn’t expect”
You are not the person
I expected. I am still
slowly peeling
Away your mask.
Who do I trust here
When words spread
Faster than a forest fire?
I want to be vulnerable.
I want you to reflect
The good in me and I
Will try and do the same.
But I am done
Waiting for the VIP rope
To be held open for me.
This is not the world
I grew up in. But I am
Learning quickly.
I miss my far away souls.
But one thing I know
Is that I will not stoop
Into the abyss of
Pettiness.
I know You are
Out there, please
Find me, I
Am expecting you.
My poem imitates “In Two Seconds”
Cassie Bernall, 17; Steven Curnow, 14; Corey DePooter, 17; Kelly Fleming, 16; Matthew Kechter, 16; Daniel Mauser, 15;
Daniel Rohrbough, 15; William “Dave” Sanders, 47; Rachel Scott, 17; Isaiah Shoels, 18;
John Tomlin, 16; Lauren Townsend, 18, and Kyle Velasquez, 16
At Eleven Nineteen A.M.
thirteen columbines bloomed and returned home
in april, to the earth. Cobalt,
sky, violet, and lavender shades are
more common, scarlet is rare. Scarlet
budding, blooming, wilting on a tuesday
morning in the library, shhhh, be quiet:
bullets break the library’s no noise
policy. Shhhh, be quiet: do you
believe in god? Yes, she says,
good, go to him now and
ask them why they did it,
were they social outcasts? bullied? violent
video games? Do you build bombs
and shoot children, because you like
‘Mortal Kombat?’ School is for writing
with lead, not eating it, i
thought heroes got happy endings
but apparently, i’m wrong. Rachel got
bullet holes in her backpack and
a funeral eighty years too early,
she believed in the power of
‘a chain reaction of kindness,’ she
believed in people, people failed her
And i don’t mean her killers,
i mean her America: that loves
the second-amendment more than they love
their own children. By noon, there
were two more columbines withering into
soil and dreams of college, romance,
adventures were just that, dreams. The
ground begs us: stop planting columbines.
If you need a refresher in how to behave
Be here
But don’t take up too much space.
get dressed
not in that shirt
(shoulders)
you’re taking up too much space
Again
go home.
it’s too distracting.
raise your hand and
know the answer
but don’t expect
to say it-
he knows it
and can say it louder.
remember,
don’t take up space.
put your keys
between your fingers
when walking at night
(just in case).
how many kids will you have?
when he tells you from
across the street that
you are beautiful
take it as a compliment.
Smile
More
you were drunk and
he was drunk
what did you
expect to happen?
boys will be boys.
it’s hard for them,
be more sensitive
No
that’s too
Emotional.
you are going to stay home with the kids
right?
if you are confused
it’s just because of
that silly
brain of yours
ee probably knows
more and better
(you can take up
space here make
him feel good)
when something happens
when they cross
the
line
say something
(it’s the right thing to do)
but you should
expect nothing
it isn’t about you
it was probably
your fault.
you probably
were taking up
too much
space.
we need to protect them
not us.
(i don’t know who we is)
have lots of sex
find power in your body
(remember to focus on him)
but he told his
friends to
watch out for that one,
she’ll fuck anyone.
it must’ve been the clothes
she was wearing.
there she goes again
taking up space.
What a bitch.
If you need a self care day
Don’t take off
your pajamas. Turn off
all of your devices.
Don’t even
check your email. Or
social media.
Make your
favorite breakfast, even
if you haven’t been
to the gym. Lay
in bed for at least two
hours. Maybe three.
Water your plants.
Take a shower, but
immediately put
on clean sweatpants.
Sit in front of
the TV. Watch
your guilty pleasure show.
Eat ice cream
straight from the carton.
Sit in front
of the fire wrapped
in a blanket. Maybe
play some music.
Watch people walk
by. The world
walks by.
Busy. Rushing.
But not you.
Take it slow.
Nothing is your
responsibility today.