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Category: Poems & Shorts

The Feeling of Forgetting

Another gear, another speed.

Stuck in rewind, stuck on repeat.

I’ve been losing my mind,

so many times.

I must have lost it, down in the mine.

Around Me

Open heart, I fall to pieces.

Send the parts to far off places.

Hide away and pray for healing.

Close your eyes to slow your breath down.

 

Bluish paint flakes off the highway.

Morning light to lead me blindly.

Falling rocks and sharper corners.

Melted lines of current heat wave.

 

Into you I run for cover.

Undermine your mixed emotion.

Open up to greet your fortress.

Storm your heart with pen and paper.

 

Smoothish stones I toss in water.

Muddled bank of sticks and grasses.

Float it now, your new idea.

Give me time for hesitation.

 

Bright in love, I’m seeing clearer.

Twin is just my blurry mirror.

Often times I’m left to wonder.

Stuck in time, oh, anxious misery.

 

Moment’s gone, I’m grasping wispy.

Clouds of thoughts, those icky feelings.

Measured up, I’ve given over.

Isolation, on my shoulder.

The Early Riser Special

The early riser special. $5.95.

They might as well call it the Carlinator.

My Favourite Thing

By fire and in line

we pass the time.

The dishes get done

in their sort of shine,

I feel you sparkle

on your very own side.

Under your wing,

You’re my favourite thing.

Kathmandu

Kathmandu you know what I feel for you. The scar you’ve left on my heart.

The Mountains

A young man found himself walking down a country road.  In the distance, he could see the mountains.  The presence and splendor of the distant peaks called him forth.  The young man picked up his pace.

And Then He Spoke

I opened my eyes, remembering that I need not close them in the first place. I had learned that rule in Sunday School and now I knew that it was just a rule to stop us from giggling. It’s just a formality and, these many years later, has the opposite effect as I find that there are more distractions with them closed.

Oath to a Dying Woman

Lonesome, busy with useless chores.
Closed doors.
Not to notice. Not to know you.
To forget, not forgive. I am not these,
lost in the bliss,
I promise you this.

Si Chuan Earthquake

Chaos spills out from your beauty,
Your great trees, your soft earth.
It slips between fingers
and falls to it’s fate.