Think in ways you've never thought before
If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message
Larger than anything you've ever heard,
Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats.
Think that someone may bring a bear to your door,
Maybe wounded and deranged; or think that a moose
Has risen out of the lake, and he's carrying in his antlers
A child of your own whom you've never seen.
When someone knocks on the door, think that he's about
To give you something large: tell you you're forgiven,
Or that it's not necessary to work all the time, or that it's
Been decided that if you lie down no one will die.
There are so many poems that I don't write. They just sit and hum the hymn of the ignored in my broad heart. I pet them like a cat. I whisper them down to sleep. Someday they will be yours.
And somewhere inside of my mind is a map. A cartographer's pretty daydream. You would grow dizzy if you tried to follow your finger across the zig zag witchcraft of the haphazard travels of my heart.
It's like a hot pinch.
A summer myth.
It's the middle of the year.
The summit of everything.
Your hair smells like the sun.
There is heat and there is light.
I live in the midsummer skeleton of the year.
let's just put on the Rolling Stones
you can't always get what you want
and hope that we look
back and forth
and around the corner
with a Jagger smirk
with a pirate smile
let's shake our fist at the future
the sun was an assault rifle at our
I told you useless facts
like Kiefer Sutherland has one blue eye and one green eye
like the king of hearts is the only king without a moustache
like children grow faster in the springtime
and I knew you wanted to pull over and throw me down on the green grass
on the berm
and kiss me until I fell to pieces
we laughed and the air around us was warm
I put on lip gloss and your arm looked tan
I want her to give me more direction. A map. A silver compass. But she doesn't. She gives me food and we listen to elastic beats from her stereo while the sun drops like a penny into the hillside behind her house. I whisper to myself while I walk home. I make up a song that distracts me from myself. I sing it to the moon.
sun hot drained pools
skaters with bleach tip bangs
tan legs for miles
& I didn't know nostalgia yet
just the feeling of missing you
when you were gone
the way you held me like Ohio
home like a lost soul
the way you pulled my hair
and showed me what I liked
I've memorized it.
I give myself gold stars when I can recite it without sighs.
I thought to myself that he contained a whole universe that I had yet to know.
there are no coincidences
I know things happen
(for a reason)
the word spins
like an old drunk on a barstool
meaningful connections are just walking around out in the sun
and you are a shiny universally understood symbol
The Ohio River calls me home as summer lifts her dress to us all.
There are old men on the side of the highway with berries and red, fat tomatoes.
Arms hang out of car windows.
Motorcycles speed past.
There is so much green.
I turn towards you and ask you to walk with me.
I show you my Appalachian heart.