Tag Archives: writer

Heaven Looks a Little Like Death to Me Sometimes

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I relive life off the screen because the one I lead right now isn’t that hollywood-worthy. It’s pretty dull. (See how you like it!)

x x x x x x x x x x

What I want is the picture window picturesquely placed perfectly by the
Purple window, facing an autumnal breeze of pale lavender.
Do you see the words exiting my mouth?
Or are they just whhhhisps of air?
It’s too warm for that. The air will only crystallize when you tell it to.
Yes,
That’s the advantage
Of living on this mountaintop,
Where the seasons
Change inexplicably,
But only because you said it,
You said it so it must be so,
It must be so,
It must be so.

I ran into the little red car that you own and I took a sledgehammer and tore it apart.
Yes,
That’s what heaven looks like.

What I want is the daybreak coming up after the afternoon, not before.
And that’s too much to ask now, no
“The air and the wind and the rain and the sun were my devising,
Really only some chemicals up in the sky really only some weather manipulation—
Or am I a magician?
Don’t you love to see my face
When it smiles,
Once in a while?”

Isn’t that the same as when you opened the door,
And slammed it shut,
And left me outside,
Past freezing,
The stomping foot,
The stomping foot,
The stomping foot.

I ran into your motor vehicle that is ten days past expiring from the exhaust pipe’s
Feeble running, running running I ran into it with a sledgehammer but
That was a complication because there are ten
Motor vehicle repairmen in the greater citywide area who say they can fix it and
Have solved the problem so that it is still running.
It’s still running, huh?
Your skull looks kind of shiny.
Want me to take a swack?
That’s the heaven,
When it all fades to–

Copyright 2017 Golden Star Poetry

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Look-Alike

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1.
he showed me his
ashtray in the sink
a prize from the last county fair
but i didn’t know why they couldn’t have
invested in something better–
a chandelier made of glass
or a cold metal flask.

he said “they know i like to smoke,”
and pointed to his throat,
“this is where my sorrow goes.”
i understood.  i took his hand and said
“this is only the first of
many lifetimes where
a person i’ve loved
was in two places
at once”. he asked me how i knew and i said
“i know a guy who looks like you”

he stood in shock for a moment,
then laughed.
of course,
he was only a boy who seemed like you,
you whose delicate eyes i’d go searching through,
waiting hours by the roadside, vain in my hopes.
i smiled and watched him smile an identical smile
to yours.

2.
he brought out several broken bottles,
shards all jagged and bent.
he said “i’m not afraid of pain”,
and cut his mouth open before he could
explain what he meant.

the blood was dripping like a broken sink,
he laughed again and said
“i know what it’s like when your heart
is in the wrong place, i think”.

when i told him the resemblance was
making things hard,
he said,
“you need to hold on to what you’ve got.”
he nodded his head to enforce the thought,
neck moving slowly like a cable car up and down;
“you’ll find someone” he said decidedly
and lit up without looking back at me.

Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry

Yes, it’s Nice to Know

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the way in which
we sat,
and how the day on the sun dial cement
against the shadow umbrella
i spoke the first words of clarity,
as my cheek began to burn.
(was i lying?)
we walked, and we walked, and we walked,
slightly paranoid,
feeling stalked.
thrill as how my hand slipped through your fingers,
deep as how my chin rested on your shoulder,
and i finally felt twenty years older,
but held longer than you held on me.

Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry