Clearing out the Notebooks
Selected Poems
One of the most nerve-wrackingly vulnerable things I’ve done in this space is share some of my own attempts at poetry. Here I am doing it again, for some reason.
I
To begin Is to initiate An ending
Better to Never
The room was completely anonymous. He had forgotten one corner by the time he turned to look at the next. That was a comfort Even as it disappointed him To feel that way. Stretched bare and shaking With the curtains pulled shut Shivering from the nighttime cold Or from the realization That there were no excuses That all it would take Was just one moment’s strength To get out of the bed And take ten steps to the desk Before he could convince himself Not to do it. Just one moment. Just ten steps. Or perhaps it could wait until tomorrow When the sheets were less warm And the liberating effortlessness of sleep A little less inviting. Better perhaps to let the worlds roiling within him Work themselves out while he wasn’t conscious and could not attempt to control them. Better perhaps to let those worlds continue to play out uninhibited and unrestricted upon his soul rather than inflict upon them the stillbirth of failing to give them form and shape Within such a bare world. Tomorrow the sun will come back out And the world may no longer need A beauty he could not hope to provide.
Travelogue
Clothes Toiletries Charge devices (phone, iPad, kindle) Bring chargers Work comp or Mac? Books Clothes Toiletries Bring chargers Work comp or Mac? Books Clothes Toiletries Work comp or Mac? Books Clothes Toiletries Work comp Books Clothes Toiletries Books Toiletries Books Toiletries Toiletries Books Clothes Toiletries Books Clothes Toiletries Work comp Books Clothes Toiletries Bring chargers Work comp Books Clothes Toiletries Charge devices (phone, iPad, kindle) Bring chargers Work comp Books
Bearing [Witness]
I observe the losses of others An accumulation of griefs and hardships To which I cannot claim ownership But which have marked me nonetheless Wounds that are not mine But still break flesh Death, who was a stranger to me for so long Has now become my familiar But not yet a companion No one tells you the downside of survival, Which is that it ages you And makes you feel ever closer To the point that you can’t survive I never had the wherewithal to pursue my own heartaches Choosing instead to endure those of others I write my lonely words to no particular end From my own experience of their pains For no one’s comfort but my own
Notes for a film
Door. Night. Banging. Wind. A sense of them together, young? Ripped away. Morning, coffee, alone, waiting Animals in the garden - something off Visit. Disconnection. Next day coffee gone (night before?) More feels off Night. Ghost. Coffee together. Morning, gone. Waiting. Fade away.
II
Feast in abundance On the fruits of your worry They grow back quickly
-cs