Wednesday, August 8, 2012

I was once a dreamer

I was once a dreamer,
I would land only to dance up and away again,
even then only on tip-toe.
Last time, I fell;
my dreams had slipped
unnoticed as I lingered too long on the ground
and on my trip down
I tried to grasp at them
but found only clouds
and hazy grey.
The music, the colors
had faded
and taken my wings away.

Land is less kind,
less vast,
and while I wile my time
strangely weighted to the ground
wondering if my wings will grow back,
my dreams are now tethered lightly to sleep.
I don’t sleep much.

I don’t speak much either.
Putting feelings into sound onto paper
gives me only rough translations.
I skip the process of tongues and go
straight to the fingers
wrapped around this pen.
These fingers that when splayed
resemble the wings I lost.
If I close my eyes
and the dark and the quiet lie with me,
I can turn these writings back into wings.

But stillness grows tired of waiting
and leaves me restless on the ground.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

words slip away

words don’t feel
like words anymore
whispered over and over
until consonants unravel
and curl into shapes
on my tongue that slide around and
tie themselves up
into nothing new.

so it was that i knew what
i was saying
before i added more
now sounds splinter into
pieces of meaninglessness.
left with phonemes
that won’t morph
saying the same nothings