Thursday, January 24, 2013

forever a beach baby

i live down-port Jefferson. i sit on my queen canopy bed and look out my bedroom window onto the boatyard and harbor. Livin the dream. i am grateful to live so close to one of the cutest parts of long island, and my favorite pastime here is walking around the village or along the coastline.  this little tidbit is the first part of my journey- walking across the street to an opening in the fence, climbing over the docks that are stored for cold weather, but somehow still staaaank. SeaWeed- now that is some Funky Fishy Smelly Green Sh*t. [interlude: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zzrh5GftgzM] I am an ocean baby tho so NBD and watching the harbor is the highlight of my day.
in this poem the fall moon-rise is symbolic of the female rising to rule spirituality:

(first draft) -alice through a looking-glass

     a Moon rising
 over the boatyard:
a small opening or gateway. followed by
a wall of docks thigh high
a need to climb, get self up, and gaze into
a field of docks, acknowledge the cleats
and the gaps . . .
aware, walk forward watching
all the dangers immediate and
necessary points of sure footing until
Your footing is sure enough and
I skip across leaping and laughing.
[. . . scents of seaweeds. . . .]
as I teeter along the edge of
        the last dock
    in My Path
          I realize I
forgot the docks would end,
forgot this sea is concrete.
with a slight singe of nostalgia eye
          lay
        unrest
        down
spot My Ladder in the lot- a trailer
protects these weak knees so I descend
and to My Joy realize I can walk on water.
______________________________
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be



                          BE
All of those years I thought it was me
Convinced of the fear, desperate to see
Ran ocean to ocean, desperate to flee
And then there was the calming of the sea.


Sunday, January 6, 2013

poetry from a younger self


some stuff i wrote in early years of undergrad .. i just want to get some stuff up to start expanding this blog, if only to practice writing for a [possibly non-existent] audience. I've always been extremely hesitant to share my writing so i need to start.


LISTENING TO THE PRIEST AT YOUR FUNERAL

I wish I could say I believed.
No fear of absolutes, just sweet God.
Security by merely having faith.
I desperately wish to be naïve,
Guided by obligations.
Then I would know you were whole—

Cold harsh reality
(that you crashed in to a wall,
became entrapped inside your car,
and all that remained was bits
of flesh from your chest)
wouldn’t be quite as aching

I’d love to rest assured
The way I hold my hand on my heart
And pledge allegiance to the flag
That I’d never lose you.
But you are gone
And I have nowhere to turn.

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