Sunday, November 8, 2009
Duh
I haven't posted since June, and lots has happened since then. However, I don't think I'm going to be posting on this anymore. I'm not sure if Yellow Kettle really exists anymore. We'll see.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
On June 2, 2009, I'm in a mood.
I miss my family.
Today I watched a television show that I used to watch with my parents. It was the series finale, and at the end it goes four years into the future. At this point the main character has passed away, leaving behind his friends, his brother, his wife, and his three or four-year-old son. This made me very sad. I know it's just some ridiculous show, but I was saddened that this person, such a likable character, would not be able to see his son grow up. He won't be able to grow old with his wife. And I guess this is what makes me miss my family even more today.
My granddad did see his children grow up; he saw their children grow up, and he grew old with my grandma. But I guess that doesn't make it any easier. Today is my first June 2nd without my granddad. I keep thinking that everyday that he isn't here. Tomorrow will be my first June 3rd without him, and the days will keep adding up.
I'm in a mood, and it's making me think about what it is that I want. I'm realizing that it's a lot simpler than I thought.
Today I watched a television show that I used to watch with my parents. It was the series finale, and at the end it goes four years into the future. At this point the main character has passed away, leaving behind his friends, his brother, his wife, and his three or four-year-old son. This made me very sad. I know it's just some ridiculous show, but I was saddened that this person, such a likable character, would not be able to see his son grow up. He won't be able to grow old with his wife. And I guess this is what makes me miss my family even more today.
My granddad did see his children grow up; he saw their children grow up, and he grew old with my grandma. But I guess that doesn't make it any easier. Today is my first June 2nd without my granddad. I keep thinking that everyday that he isn't here. Tomorrow will be my first June 3rd without him, and the days will keep adding up.
I'm in a mood, and it's making me think about what it is that I want. I'm realizing that it's a lot simpler than I thought.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Survival Methods for a Body Without
Perspiration
It was a battle between the softness of the blanket I
made two winters ago and the heat of a Virginia August.
The softness won, and we took on the heat, removing
each article of clothing. Skin of a new taste committed
itself to memory. Our bodies created air-like contortions,
filling each space. We distorted, sinking, in our own
creation. We thought it was enough—but we’re only
human. It’s natural to want more.
Rain
How unfortunate when hope is dissected – an empty rib
cage falling to pieces. I escaped to an empty lot by a
convenience store. You followed, thirsting for nicotine. I
waited, but only because the light mist was turning into
a drizzle. It was difficult to light your cigarette when you
emerged. The rain thickened to camouflage my tears.
You didn’t see that I was weak and needed you, but I
saw that you were lonely and wanted me. We found
ways to pass the time.
Water
He pressed his lips to my hair. I lifted my head and
kissed him on the mouth, thinking how sweet a stranger
could be. Then half a thought of good sense found us,
and I turned away from him, unaware of the protocol.
He slid his left arm underneath my neck, pulled me
close, and let my head rest in his nook. Each toss and
turn had him waiting to pull me back into the mold of
his body. Sunday morning’s sun struck us with such
hostility, perhaps scolding us for our errors in judgment.
The drip of the A.C. unit made me think of water torture,
as I laid in bed wondering if this first time was the last
time. I touched my fingertips to where his teeth touched
my skin and wondered how I would look when the
violet faded.
It was a battle between the softness of the blanket I
made two winters ago and the heat of a Virginia August.
The softness won, and we took on the heat, removing
each article of clothing. Skin of a new taste committed
itself to memory. Our bodies created air-like contortions,
filling each space. We distorted, sinking, in our own
creation. We thought it was enough—but we’re only
human. It’s natural to want more.
Rain
How unfortunate when hope is dissected – an empty rib
cage falling to pieces. I escaped to an empty lot by a
convenience store. You followed, thirsting for nicotine. I
waited, but only because the light mist was turning into
a drizzle. It was difficult to light your cigarette when you
emerged. The rain thickened to camouflage my tears.
You didn’t see that I was weak and needed you, but I
saw that you were lonely and wanted me. We found
ways to pass the time.
Water
He pressed his lips to my hair. I lifted my head and
kissed him on the mouth, thinking how sweet a stranger
could be. Then half a thought of good sense found us,
and I turned away from him, unaware of the protocol.
He slid his left arm underneath my neck, pulled me
close, and let my head rest in his nook. Each toss and
turn had him waiting to pull me back into the mold of
his body. Sunday morning’s sun struck us with such
hostility, perhaps scolding us for our errors in judgment.
The drip of the A.C. unit made me think of water torture,
as I laid in bed wondering if this first time was the last
time. I touched my fingertips to where his teeth touched
my skin and wondered how I would look when the
violet faded.
Recall
This poem has lots of indents and is about a bunch of stories that I heard about both of my grandfathers. I never asked them about what I heard, because I heard most of these stories after they passed away. I didn't distinguish very much between what stories go to which granddad -- a family has to keep some secrets, right? You know what to do if you feel so inclined.
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