Hi Jordyn... How have you been? I'm not back yet but break is coming soon... Yay!! For now I'm mostly posting assignments.
Wakeful Being
Like Bathing in Candlelight
Swimming in the lull of warm
Sensation of beating, flowing, falling
Ripples at the navel
Like the butterflies
So overt and sinful
While church bells sing
No is subtle
No is safe
No is real
But yes courses through the running water
And bounces off the porcelain tiles
Glowing as the fire sublimes
In the fervor of my senses
In the hems of the fabric
In the secrets
And in the undertones
It’s true that sometimes
The desire never comes
And to the literal
We fall prisoner
In the abstraction of disappointment
Until clarity conforms like water
Church bells ring outside our psyche
And security sings from the outside in
Was it the departure you thought you wanted?
That shivers outside the womb
Or was it the fervor, the wakeful being
That lives between the tiles
And glows beneath the grout
Nostalgia
Across the Street and then across the street again
The man with the mustache sold snow cones
That would leak sticky purple before I could finish
I learned what a yellow Jacket was
And that bumble bees don’t sting
When tag birthed my competitive spirit
The cement bleachers were like big stairs
Concrete grounds for amusement
The basket ball courts were grounds for breeding
The orgy of 98 he later told me
He didn’t know I was eight back then
But I remember him
When I was little and I would watch the big kids play
And when I was older and they were older still
Until one day “Big” became relative
Because I thought to myself
“If I am still little we must all still be little to someone.”
But we didn’t know it then
Or at least I didn’t
I didn’t know my fear was envy
Or that my envy was fear
But every time I sat there on the concrete bleachers
I would remember my lopsided training wheels
Designed to teach balance
And prepare me for the two-wheeler
I still haven’t learned to ride