All posts tagged: travel

Ebb & Flow

I slink out into passageway of peace, clarity strokes my eyes before they open to greet the day, to feel the breeze on my cheeks. It’s that time of combined yellow/ blue light that the coo-coo doves and wrens beckon into morning. Trees dance along to whooping melodies, little girls freckled from the sun chase the cat through the sprinklers like little tyrant knights…. this is summertime. Still, I remain. Sitting outside in the gentle, humid Texas morning looking at my skin. One body, one mind, one being. Is it enough to live one life?  25 years into it and all I feel is the bitterness grind into dust and blow away like the flame in birthday wishes. Today I have made a promise to myself (and oh how I hope not to break it) to indulge in every waking moment in this busy, little, fragile life of mine. I haven’t been “home” physically or mentally for a while now, but am slowly regaining my grounds, squeezing a waking breath into that fictitious fable we …

Hiking Into a Happy New Year

The afternoon shuts its doors. The heart tightens it valves, the dragon maple sunk in its bones, The grass asleep in its wheel. The year squeezes to this point, the cold Hung like a lantern against the dark burn of a syllable: I roll it around on my tongue, I warm its edges … Charles Wright, closing lines to “Light Journal,” Zone Journals (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1988)

A Vague Transgression

Our last night The split in the blinds cast slitted shadows on your skin The moon leaks a pale blue into the Filtered air and kicks up into our lungs  Cat in the sink sleeps away this August heat It’s four a.m  Phone sounds the waking bell You kick the sheets that tie around your knees and go to brush your teeth I pinch the creases of my eyes to keep from crying  Tears seep inevitably between my fingers  Walk downstairs  Wait for the coffee to steep  ….wait a little longer than it usually takes, Trying to grasp the precious moments you’re  Still with me, wishing maybe You’d stay for breakfast Or an extra day, or week But you don’t falter on those plans you made We walk in somber silence into the humid morning, Dragging our feet across the pavement to your car Grab the handle, kiss and wave goodbye Your lights fade across the blacktop lot I march back with folded arms into our empty flat Crawl up the stairs, flick off the lights …

On Things Forgotten

Recoiled skies pass in reckless abandon The wind blows through the windows, Prickly pear and other thorny things sprouting limbs And creeping up the walls of this old sheriff’s office Remain the only living occupants. If walls could talk, they mightn’t choose to speak… We leave things hanging on hall trees, And mounted above mantles Small reminders that there was life inside at Some point. But the bones and blood Of these buildings runs cold, Until there is nothing but the Forlorn faith of somber cries From voices long underground. Ghost towns and old railyards mark the skin of This heartland, Long bleached from the sun and Rusted away from unfair weather. It’s a wonder what this place must’ve been Before time turned executioner, Before people picked up their shadows And blew away like rain-flit flames Struggling for a life that is no longer theirs. Now the frames wilt And weather away in rural decay, Things that once housed, fed, and warmed Now sink back into deformed Earth. Laughes do not echo off the walls, The …

Summer Thus Far…

Talked to a friend on the phone, told her I’d forgotten how to write. It’s true. Maybe it’s just that I have nothing to say really. Who is it I’m speaking to now, exactly? I’ve been told too often that I’m overly vague. But my life isn’t exactly something that can entertain pages upon pages, or even a handful of people really. To be honest, it’s just scraps, feathered pieces of paper torn on each end. Sometimes I wonder why I even write things here…. And then I remember: because it feels good to write things down. Put words down on a page that only really half-exists. Anyway, back to the content of my life, I’m ambiguous and indistinct. Maybe that’s why I’ve taken to poems. The right people to seem to understand them (or at least in my mind they do.) It’s like a type of codex; poems unite likewise minds flowing down the current of the universe. But in attempt to be a little less vague, let me share a little piece of …

Nothing More to Want

I sit & watch the dawn creep Through under the door The tin roof flapping like a starved lark Breathing air into a set of broken lungs My hands stay warm around my glass And I take notice: I am whole There’ s nothing more to want, & if that’s so, there’s nothing left. I’ve escaped to towns that No one comes from Babies born on the road to Unburdened mothers It’s a half-handed happiness To have nothing more to want Laying on the floor of an empty Room recalling a season spent In a sleepy town, the cold Lingers on your lashes The skies taste of ponderosa pine Press your fingers between the bark & smell the vanilla Snow catches in your ankles As you stumble home Dizzied by jewels in the sky Maybe I will find myself stumbling back there one day… The thought fades & the tin roof Slams again The warm summer Sits still like a promise Yet whispered Beetles fall from the Cracks in the ceiling Dogs bark as the  …

Roots

Some people have roots in their homeland, they hold a sense of belonging… A sense of purpose, the will, and want and need to nurture. Others, do not. Others take their roots with them; they harness them to the bottom of their soles and walk on, unknowing, but proud into that forethought, be it out of necessity or needlessness. I fall somewhere in between. The gypsy in me, like all of us, was born before into once solid bodies surmised only by the existence of their faith, their paths erased but their souls forever survived by the essence of one thing: Purpose. I’m relearning my purpose in the world, I’m recognizing my inner need and yearn to help others, and I’m slowly cultivating my outlet for that. The past year or two has been a roller coaster. I’ve traveled from one end of the country to the other, in a less romantic way than it may seem. I’ve abandoned ideas and embraced new ones, I’m learning and praying to the goddess to help me see my obstacles …