Poetry Exercise

Take the phone off the hook.

Find a mirror and examine your
wrinkles, the depth of your own eyes, and the circles underneath them.
In one paragraph, write about all the people that
make you cry and
then delete it.
Rewrite the paragraph. Do not cry this time. Only
write what you learned from each tear.
When stuck, use your favorite word and write
paragraphs and essays about why it is your favorite.
Spend extra time on self discovery, using
action verbs and hindsight. Absolutely do not
forget your first dance, first kiss, and any time you snuck out.
Light a cigarrette, but leave it,
ashing in a tray while you spend a page on your first one.
Pour a glass of lemonade and eat a popsicle to
cure the hangover of memory.
When through,

Eliminate any lies

Strike out any and all unneccesary

chatter, commas, and pages of regrets.

Dew Hushing

When the sun comes up and you
listen really close, noone’s knowing
the earth’s heart beating.
And just when the light comes over
the dirt, if you put your ear to the sky
hold your breath,
and hush the morning dew on your face
you can hear
the sound of the earth’s heart breaking.
A second or so and then
the birds.
Cacophony and chaos in the streets
and a thousand hands are clapping
and a two thousands eyes are
watching and they hush the breaking
of their own hearts
with the roar they
heard with their eyes.

At the end of the day
and the sun’s falling just so
there’s a soft light that colors everything
in sepia and nostalgia.
No one’s knowing then that
the earth’s heart is being patched
with prayers and dreams
and lovemaking
whispers and salt from the eyes
of the people who
held their breath and
hushed the dew.

Dear Friend,



I miss you a lot tonight. I don't miss you in the sad sort of eating chocolate and sappy movies sort of way, but in the way you miss a friend. I wish that I could call you up on the phone and talk, but things just aren't like that for us any more. They can't be.



I poured a lot of myself into you, into you and me, and it isn't there any more. It's funny how when you don't have something anymore, you're suddenly shocked that you don't have it, but how quickly you adjust. And then the shocking part becomes realizing that you survived. You are surviving without that thing that you thought you could do alone. It's funny that my life sometimes feels less substantial now. I can completely ignore the voice telling me to be quiet and be still because it isn't personified by anyone. It's guilt free though, this gadding about town and spreading myself to thin. I feel confident. I feel capable. I feel completely vulnerable.



Survival is the only instinct we have. I shoot to kill when I speak. And I killed something that shouldn't be dead, but I put it, us, out of misery. Sometimes, even though I'm mostly grown, all I can do is throw a fit. I huff and I puff and I stamp the house down and it makes me feel better. And it makes me look selfish and childish. If I could control the bull in the china shop part of me, maybe, maybe....But if I didn't have that childlike faith and hope that the silver lining is going to pull through, there might not have been as many songs about rainbows as there were.



I'm mixing my metaphors and sending this into space tonight, hoping that you know what this all means. I'm walking in the sun and I'm walking in the swamp and I'm not holding anyone's hand but my own. And we're both going to be just fine.