Wisemen (day 982)

Silently I stepped out from behind the mirror
Took a moment to reflect, to look back
To think about what had happened unto my demeanor
My wrinkles shone like gemstones
Enlightening my visitors to the challenges I had faced
None, save the unexpecting, could reconcile the past
Not one of my curses could pierce through that thick veil
To snuff out the screaming badges
Leaving dormant Wisemen holding court above chalice’s hold
And I never remembered to drink

Counting (day 978)

Let’s make it together slow, baby
…Tonight baby
Tonight’s the night
Turn the page into another.
A land of bitten numbers
And satellites florescent
If we watch together baby
If we watch the night together
Let’s make it together slow, baby
Tonight’s the night
Tonight’s the land of another
Where we will fall as numbers

She Liked Me (day 977)

She liked me because I made yam fries.
She liked me because of chopsticks on our first date.
She liked me because at all hours of the day,
Our stomachs growled in unison.

She liked me because I had dreams in my eyes.
She liked me because I’d read her poems I’d just written about her.
She liked me because every reason told her to be afraid,
But she’d still tuck her hand deep betwixt my warm nooks.

She liked me because when she licked, it tasted good.
She liked me because it wasn’t about the money, or the test.
She liked me because I liked it each and every time,
No matter how far we’d gone, or how loud we’d been getting there.

She liked me because we fought in the kitchen.
She liked me because I pinned her against the counter, frequently.
She liked me because she was changing me,
One smile after another, one spell after the other.

She liked me because I’d let her buy dark chocolate.
She liked me because I dug deep for strength.
She liked me because it just wasn’t the same,
When roads pulled our hands and spaces awaited patiently.

And I like her just the same.

Night’s Delicate Dance (day 976)

Maybe we balanced our cross-hairs when we sent our whispers into night’s air.
A long, hollow howl,
A song to our own dainty ears,
Wishing for night to tarry while bringing us sleep

Footsteps reaching horizons edge, so evenly spaced so late in the day.
How did we manage,
How many words were pure thoughts,
Lingering ’bout our hesitant breaths like foxglove in the summer.

My moon silhouetted your name-sake tree, standing afar tall and proud.
Bloodline crawls down stony steps to waters edge,
Breaking off into still, deep black abyss
Waiting to find another whisper.

Protest Poetry (day 975)

What was the arctic before it became an oil well?
What was a forest overrun with trees?
What was my name before I was a sibling?
What was my right before I’d been stamped?
Did I come straight from a hologram?
Was I brought home on a road?
Whence and where from did the light come?
And the warmth, did it come before gas, painted and housed within four block walls of a thousand pixels per inch?
Where did I walk to before a wood chipped trail led my way?
How did the day fill before the calendar?
Can a city be a city without city lights?
How did one tarry about a late night corner before floating electric drones showed I was withing safety?

Because dammit, I’m starting to wonder
Is there any point in the quest?

What is the point in stuffing our bellies?
Where did the idea of nik-naks come hither from?
How did function get replaced by aesthetics?
When did choice become demand?
When did want become a dire need?
Why did our brothers and sisters turn from extensions of ourselves to examples of our desires?
When did we lose all of our trust?
And where has my community resettled?
Where has my tree grown its roots?
Where is my moon?

This is a protest poem

Raw (day 974)

Feed me with your silken magic
Light me up through the night
I’ve lived before…
To live another again

So let’s lay high, girl,
Make it last all night.
Let’s send our worries far, girl
Play for me your sweetest song.

No crying round here, honey
Pure smiles in all through these parts.
Boogy woogy things baby,
We got it real goin on.