Tagged: message

in the east village,

in the east village,
a simple pleaplease return
stones – as if each one

carries meaning, a story,
the dull weight of its travels

i reach out to you

i reach out to you
from the past, in central time –
did you happen to

catch the sunrise? is it true
that the future will be brighter?

some memories are

some memories are
still magnetic, pulling you
away from sleep – in

the middle of the night, new
reflections obscure the message

on the underside

most days, we will need

most days, we will need
some kind of message from side-
ways to lean into

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: sideways

this morning, we learned

this morning, we learned
you were shrinking,
all fourteen-
point-six million square
miles of you, quaking and
leaving deep
scarps as if carving
out a message – for the
850 pounds of moon
rocks we stole
away and called our
greatest legacy –
to return home

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: legacy

it always starts off

the first snow of the

the first snow of the
season is a light dusting,
flurries passing notes

across state lines, innocuous
but slippery all the same

i want to break it

i want to break it
to you slowly so that each
syllable lingers,
sinks in. i want to
break it to you
quickly so that the
speed of the words whips
up a centripetal force,
spinning away. i want
to break it to
you gently so that
there is no more
fear, only trust –
the known knowns

at the bookstore the

at the bookstore the
other day, i get down to
my knees and find myself
eye-level to a shelf
of books that scream
you. i pull off
a few volumes, open
to chance pages,
always looking for a
message, a sign to
your disappearance.
in one is a man
lighting up a
cigarette, in
another is someone
cursing, and in
a third, a
blank page, waiting
for the right
moment that will
no longer come