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The thunder
Like a subwoofer To my brittle bones The conflicted wind Twists and shifts In my milky mind The rain like goosebumps The violent electric lightning With its teeth whitening scowl The air inside my house The broken windowsill And the intolerable anxiety Of a spring storm
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Life can be dull
Like a late Sunday in July Birds on branches Windless sky Thick silence Dry dirt Thoughts Life is not like water Or rain Or Thursday afternoon Or music Slipping from a bird’s beak Today we had our first meeting about publishing my first poetry book
It was loud and vibrant It was exciting Now my brain is racing I think I need a bath I think I need a break too Maybe, in several hours, I’ll begin thinking of my next project But not now Ideas form during unrestricted creativity
While waiting on top of a waterfall poetry oasis I Truly thank you Erik? Poems make me fly out of control Some mkes me fly The whole family is here
Fragmented and fragile Together Yes I can see the liquid cement and paint chips As my mother tries haphazardly to tie knots in the sand But I also see the raw unfiltered beauty of it all The brilliant erratic telephone Through my splintered lenses The family is here and I feel fantastic I don't know if generally speaking
One can be sure Of very much at all But I am certain of this thing I am uncertain I so madly wish I weren't though It is hard to trace a feeling
To its roots Feelings form freely Like rotting fruit Each seed Not destined For spoilage, consumption, fermentation, reproduction Not shaped By reason Like rocks near an old erie cliff Feelings tumble unpredictably Yet some remain untarnished Intact Trees with deep roots Like skyscrapers Like stoicism I yearn to be your apprentice 566
667 788 899 665 433 321 The number of views Rises and falls Like the tides of my emotions I want to keep you reading I do not always have something to say I do not always have time to reflect Because one cannot be reflective When the water is three feet high Being between
Two flames Is hot And sweaty I know My family Is flammable I think like you but I feel so much more intensely
I don’t know if it is the autism or if it is me It hurts It deprives me from experiences Like dissonant music Or dramatic films I wanted to listen to Stravinsky But I could not |
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