today i take
the train into
my city and it is
underwater.
anna
says the birds are
leaving because here
is the wrong place
to be, and i think that maybe
it has more to do
with altitude and potential
for greatness.
no one looks in graveyards
for nobel prize winners.
today i pack
up and stay
here.
today i
take my train to
atlantis and follow
the silence to
patched-up
tomorrow
anna
is knitting sweaters
to keep the sparrows
warm
anna worries
about
things like
dog-eared
pages
and left-
handed
scissors
i say
the train
tracks
will run out
long before
the earth lets
go of your ankles.
today i saw
fish tanks piled
in my cardboard
boxes;
today i pack
up the
quiet and
commandeer
a cable
car
no tracks
but here we still
run in
circles
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Comments
i'm supposed to be working on a world history project right now
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let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
it fits well with this sense I have of wanting to leave, to be somewhere else, to get up and go . . . and yet, to also sort of want to just hang around even though I know I'm not where I want to be. it's got a very forlorn, yearning, in-between-time feel to it.
it's been raining here for too long. but my city isn't flooded yet.
--
"You know, you and I are like crystal. Most people are just glass. The world sings a note to them and they can't feel it. But we hum. But you have to be careful. You have to know when to stop humming, because crystal will shatter."
-Brian Hall
i keep editing the formatting slightly
i should really stop
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
<-- spellingfreak.
<3
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
i've seen words butchered
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
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