at least it's something, eh?

"You see,
I don't believe that libraries

should be drab places where

people sit in silence,
and that's been the main reason
for our policy
of employing wild animals
as librarians...."
-Monty Python

Don't Go Far Off: Pablo Neruda

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?



I adore this poem, ah! Thought I'd share.

an old story from the boy who's coming home and me

Andrew's writing is blue. Mine is green. We wrote this during church, if I recall correctly, sometime in 2007. We could only see the third line of what the other had written and would then add on our own three lines.

Saving Leeches
His helmet shone brightly through the
night sky. It was a beacon of hope
to all who saw it. It created a feeling of
euphoria and everyone was seized with a desire
to strip off their socks and raise them
like flags to the sun. They took off their socks
and wiggled their toes in the sand
and then they lifted them above
their heads swinging them in a
fit of frenzy. Then they began to
run around in circles proclaiming their
intense hatred of the VP. They chanted
spells and brewed potions. Their
schooling at Hogwarts had definitely
paid off. They knew that
nothing could ever be the same. They
proceeded to sit down indian-style
(how racist is that?) on the grass to
the yellow brick road. They
called it that because it led to
China. (How racist is that?) It led them
to the great wall where they marched
for miles until their feet bled. They
mourned for their socks and wiped the blood
from the rocks. Their goal was
to collect enough blood to help save
the most endangered species of leeches.
They gathered the blood and performed the
necessary transfusions. The leeches smiled with life.

Sestina!

I wrote a poem that has form. And it's 39 lines. See if you can figure out the pattern.

Hold your breath and dive into the water,
Feel the saltiness whirl around your mouth.
The ocean and the sky merge into one,
The hot sand warms in the cold winter.
The scents from Puerto Rican cuisine burns
Your nose as you try to remember home.

You’re remembering the place called home,
As you drink Gatorade instead of water.
The pang of loneliness burns
Your heart which is stuck in your mouth.
You guess at “how many” snowflakes this winter,
While you’re stuck under a sun of one.

You’re trying to guess which one
Number you should phone to home.
Your heart seems full of winter;
It will not melt with the warm ocean water.
Words twist inside and curl in your mouth,
As they wait on your tongue and burn.

The hot humid air outside burns,
As you sit at a table for one.
You lift warm cinnamon buns into your mouth,
Like Aunt Corrine’s with raisins back at home.
You look out at the aquamarine water,
Wishing that spring would absolve winter.

Here in this gorgeous place it is not really winter
As shown by your shoulders that are burned.
Swimming in a pool of clean pure water
You feel as if this place and you are one.
You almost wish to call it home,
But the word gets caught between your tongue and mouth.

The hot liquid you pour on your lips and mouth,
And the snowflakes from previous winter’s,
Seem to coil around the mention of home.
All your memories seem to churn and burn,
Until they are melded into one,
Like the ebb and flow of two ocean’s waters.

The ache of home seems to tighten your mouth,
Until you get back to pool water in Provo winter.
Then the burn of Puerto Rico bends your heart in one.

once and now

Once I crashed my bike.
Now I have a scar.

Once I conversed in Russian every day.
Now I fear I'm forgetting a bit of it every day.

Once I didn't like tomatoes.
Now I love them.

Once I climbed Squaw Peak with Sierra.
Now she's in New York.

Once I picked huckleberries.
Now they rest in the freezer.

Once I got a scary phone call in the night.
Now I hope to never get one again.

Once I held baby Josh.
Now he will still cuddle-bug, but he's no baby.

Once I threw an apple through a window.
Now I laugh at that me.

Once I was.
Now I am.
Soon I will be.

zephyr

Sketch of a bird.

Snatch of conversation.

A broken button.

You turn the pages.

Pencil captured the bird.

Mind remembered words.

Tape holds down the three pieces.

The feathers remind you of a rainy morning.

Clouds hindered the sun as you looked out the window.

You held your cup of tea and upped Neil Young’s volume.

The assumed dialogue becomes a soliloquy.

A man and his dementia battle it out.

One voice. Two tones.

The three uneven pieces beg you to finger their crags.

One hole remains intact.

Makes you ponder your own heart’s shape.

This is really rough. Wrote in less than 10 minutes. Nat, don't be befuddled if you don't find any meaning because I don't always write meaningfully. These words just came out. I like some of the lines. Maybe I'll come back and work with it one day. For now, it's just been nice to have a little lunchtime diversion.

don't ask me what it means, it's late, you're all great

Why am I listening to Christmas music on Halloween?

Is it like when I eat oatmeal plain with cold milk?
Or is it like wearing a tide kick shirt?

Maybe it's like shanksing my loved ones?
Or is it the calming sound of living in a city of immigrants?

Am i a blue elephant who can't make up his mind?
Or am i the bright red leaf who doesn't dare fall?

And maybe i'm just like you
and you're just like me.