a stupid little poem

sometimes I think that poetry has to be big

that it needs to be existential or ground breaking

that it should be about one of the Big L’s:

life, liberty, love, loss

and that my dumb little poems aren’t poetry at all

but then I remember that in the end, everything’s fucking made up

from words to history to modern society

so I wrinkle my nose and write another stupid little poem

just because it makes me happy

in the wake of Jack Frost

it’s a glittering, slushy mess out there
white winter sunlight melts snow mounds into endless puddles
and snowmen into shapeless piles
it glimmers across snow packed by hundreds of feet
and sparkles through ice covered branches

the crowds shuffle silently
and the birds are all asleep
even the frigid winds have stopped whistling
but the quiet of this chilly morning
is broken
by the dripping of dirty icicles

ready

there’s this itch

I feel it in my fingers and my toes,

reverberating with every heartbeat

the urge to get up and go, to drive without destination,

to wander crumbling sidewalks until you’re so turned around you don’t know which way is up,

to visit friends and places we miss so deeply we can feel the ache in our bones;

this insatiable itch isn’t just in my body anymore,

it’s in the air, now, too

infiltrating our waking thoughts and sleeping dreams

until it is vibrating within us-

For now, we can do nothing but sit around

trying to convince our feet to stay still a little longer

as we wait

for the world to change

the things that we carry

I’ve been lugging around a ton of rocks.

The boulders settle solidly in my stomach and my heart,
the smaller stones weigh down my cheeks
making it impossible to smile,
and pebbles grind together under my eyes,
blocking tears that are desperate to fall;

All I can think to do
is tear myself apart
digging with cracked fingernails
through muscle and organs and sinew
until the last offensive chip of stone
lies in a bloody puddle on the floor
and I am wholly bared, naked and free.

now I lay me down to sleep

we are all so tired

the collective exhaustion of the world
peeks through my windows every single day
wheedling its way into my body
and settling itself in my eyes and mind

we are all so tired

it’s impossible to shake, this indominable fatigue,
because we know there is a better way
we are sure it is possible to live life
without so many unnecessary struggles

we are all so tired

and even though I have faith-
in people, in the world, in the universe,
in my absolute certainty that, one day, things will be better-

there are many days I want to lay myself down
and let the morning glories in the yard overtake me,
so that my body becomes one with the earth
and my mind can finally rest.