2022 Emerging Young Artist CompetitionBombshellI came from a little hole in the earth
a burrow in the mud unaware like a lowly worm here I am still a giant tree gnarled limbs reaching for it happy and hurt for that sweetness for that simple juice faces against the glass round fleshy mounds of fruit scared kept animals in a herd circling almost within my grasp each one beloved and damned what is happening they demand I don’t have any more answers I have only depth and darkness I am grand as the ancient trees lucky to witness magnolias it’s in everything we do the magic the miracles all our mini movements take my hand so I can feel tell me and then remind me nothing will be the same again Empty BoxE M
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597457_vagabonds_MA EngLit.doc |
Young Little Beach
that day we were at the beach
floating away from a passing tide
on a yellow mat and blue horizons
those eyes catlike describing to me
everso coyly what tenderness means
a wisp of dog caught at the sideline
cottonwood puffs airy as sunshine
cascading past tanned shoulders
just when everything is in transit
to wake beside you one minute
your warm limbs against mine
smile spreading in your bed
the summer to live for
i want now tomorrow
and play catch today
falling in sand dunes
burying our last wish
in a place of tiny lakes
and the next day empty
as if we were never here
floating away from a passing tide
on a yellow mat and blue horizons
those eyes catlike describing to me
everso coyly what tenderness means
a wisp of dog caught at the sideline
cottonwood puffs airy as sunshine
cascading past tanned shoulders
just when everything is in transit
to wake beside you one minute
your warm limbs against mine
smile spreading in your bed
the summer to live for
i want now tomorrow
and play catch today
falling in sand dunes
burying our last wish
in a place of tiny lakes
and the next day empty
as if we were never here
Fireflies
Last night the rain uttered upon my pillow
Cracks of thunder willed me from slumber
Like the clomp of hooves before sleds
I vow never to fall off course again
But to dream of all beautiful things
The wild I was and the wild I am
Words worth their innocence
Like the fecund earth at midnight
Or a mother’s hand held 'til dawn
O'er the ground that shifts
With every small new step
Giggles of girls by my waistline
And the mellow patio lights
Look—fireflies he points out
All things that are beautiful--
I could capture them in a zippy poem
Keep them tucked in this sunny heart
For the mighty pen that goads me
And this mind that was crazy
Long before the threat of it
All things beautiful
Stay with me
Return anon
Hurry before
I catch you again
Cracks of thunder willed me from slumber
Like the clomp of hooves before sleds
I vow never to fall off course again
But to dream of all beautiful things
The wild I was and the wild I am
Words worth their innocence
Like the fecund earth at midnight
Or a mother’s hand held 'til dawn
O'er the ground that shifts
With every small new step
Giggles of girls by my waistline
And the mellow patio lights
Look—fireflies he points out
All things that are beautiful--
I could capture them in a zippy poem
Keep them tucked in this sunny heart
For the mighty pen that goads me
And this mind that was crazy
Long before the threat of it
All things beautiful
Stay with me
Return anon
Hurry before
I catch you again
Starbucks
#293 printed on Starbucks cups for
The Way I See It initiative.
#293 printed on Starbucks cups for
The Way I See It initiative.
Demise of Her
shhh
below me
somewhere
sidling stealthily
is a small, sullen speck
rearranging pictures of me
replacing me with shadows
perfecting most of my poses
slithering, slinking, slowly
she is frivolous, and fierce
she spies at the window
slyly, smugly by herself
snooping, staring
she is below me
sticking to walls
singing and smiling
consoled by her voice
sullying my space with
her serpentine presence
she will never know
she can never be me
because way down
below me, she
doesn't exist
below me
somewhere
sidling stealthily
is a small, sullen speck
rearranging pictures of me
replacing me with shadows
perfecting most of my poses
slithering, slinking, slowly
she is frivolous, and fierce
she spies at the window
slyly, smugly by herself
snooping, staring
she is below me
sticking to walls
singing and smiling
consoled by her voice
sullying my space with
her serpentine presence
she will never know
she can never be me
because way down
below me, she
doesn't exist
Canadian Moose
Florence loves to smile from her bald toothless head.
Her thick fleshy body pushes out against constricting clothes.
She waddles in and out of stores looking at clerks.
Her jelly smile rests on you for a moment,
Then without deliberation,
Sinks quickly back into its asinine grin.
Volatile, catapulting threats, mocking you with her eyes,
She disarms you.
Wanton streetwalker of a time long ago,
She now sails proudly through the crowds
Flashing her low deep fatty chest,
Waiting for applause,
Wanting to be photographed.
She is the moose you see strewn along Bloor Street.
Emblem of our city, she stands erect,
Taunting, parading her flag, claiming the streets,
Laughing at the silliness of it all.
Her thick fleshy body pushes out against constricting clothes.
She waddles in and out of stores looking at clerks.
Her jelly smile rests on you for a moment,
Then without deliberation,
Sinks quickly back into its asinine grin.
Volatile, catapulting threats, mocking you with her eyes,
She disarms you.
Wanton streetwalker of a time long ago,
She now sails proudly through the crowds
Flashing her low deep fatty chest,
Waiting for applause,
Wanting to be photographed.
She is the moose you see strewn along Bloor Street.
Emblem of our city, she stands erect,
Taunting, parading her flag, claiming the streets,
Laughing at the silliness of it all.