Microculture: Bus Ride

Sitting on the bus
Watching people
Unpack their baggage
And unload their stories
Onto their seats
Into the ears
Of the people who listen
Or want to listen
Or are trying to listen.

Microculture: Bus Stop

I'm waiting for my bus
On a cloudy day in Atlanta
Raindrops ripple into puddles on the curb
Cars ride along the highway
Like abacus beads being pulled
Along their thread
Counting down the time
Before they return home
To someone they love
Or someone they want to love
Or someone they are trying to love.

The Sun Also Answers

In those small intimate hours

When night drips into day

I cloak myself in the cold death

Of a star

To tread in the light and shadow

Of an intimate truth

When the personal becomes

The becomes universal

We all must walk through

Our dark nights of the soul

I cling to this cliché

Like a lantern to brighten

The path ahead

I come upon

A pool of water

As still and calm

As an arcane mirror

The moon is reflected

Of its surface

It is as full

As a blood vessel

Threatening to break

To succumb to stress

And spill its light

Upon my frame

Its cratered face

Presses against my cheek

To whisper in my ear

Its breath smells like

The death and decay

Of every creature

That did not survive

The first impact

And it asks of me

What I am afraid to give:

First Impact

First Whisper

Look Within

Pale moonlight drapes itself across my knee

Please don't make me.

I don't think I'm ready yet.

Second Impact

Second Whisper

Look Within

Pale moonlight presses itself against my belly

Please stop.

I can't do this yet.

Third Impact

Third Whisper

Look Within

Pale moonlight pushes into my eyelids.

There are no words.

There are some things we share

by not talking about them.

In that final whisper

I feel the moon drowned out

By the rising sun

Ushering in a new day.

I thank him for what he's done.

He responds from atop his skyline throne

There is nothing to thank me for

I am only doing what I know to do.

And he continues his path

Along the bruised sky.

“I am only doing what I know to do”

I think I may have learned something.

I think I might have found my truth.

Microdream: Coruscant Rising (Moment of Peace)

I don't feel guilty about the past

The anger trembling

In my gut

Has calmed

Songs I thought

Would make me cry

Have me smiling like an idiot

As I walk down the street

I fall in love with strangers now

In the swift moment that our eyes meet

And we briefly bond

Over the joys and pains

We have experienced

But will never speak of

Wrapped up in the world of their eyes

A silent, fleeting bond

Irrevocable nonetheless

I forgive myself

For failing myself

For asking from you

What you were not equipped to give

No anger at you

Just compassion for your struggle

I let go of burdens

And am relieved from hate

Tears turns to laughter

Heartbreak becomes

Not a wound

But a rebuilding

My heart returns to gold

And I fly coruscant

Along the winter sky

Into the familiar arms

Of growth and healing

ON GETTING THROUGH YOUR DAY AFTER A BREAKUP

ON GETTING THROUGH YOUR DAY AFTER A BREAKUP

Go to class

Talk about philosophy

Your professor tells you that philosophy

Is the love of knowledge

Google philosophy of a breakup on your computer

Find 0 search results

Wonder what the hell philosophy is even for

Remember something about stumbling out of a cave

And seeing the light

Go to your first day of work

Fucking crush it in the meeting

Blush when everyone tells you how insightful you are

Try not to vomit because of the irony

That if you're so insightful

Why do you only realize things in hindsight

When they comment on how pale you look

Tell them it's because you drank coffee on an empty stomach

Remember how he always told you never to do that

Because he was worried about your health

And that he wants to be friends

Try not to vomit because of the irony

Prepare to vote in the upcoming political election

Think about how insincere it is for you to care about

Any issues like government spending

Because the only issue you care about

Is how efficiently and gracefully you can

Recover the emotional resources you invested

Think about how dumb it is for that to be political

See or hear about him with his new partner

Think whether or not his decision to be with them

Was a political statement or a personal insult

Realize that it's one or the other

The question burning inside is which

Remember what your supervisor said

Earlier at work today

“Everything is political”

Finally get home

Remember everything you've done in this house together

Turn out the light and crawl into the cave of your bed

Think about he could never spend the night

Because he was allergic to something in your house

Think about whether or not that was a warning

Civilization

I stand among fading columns

And a crumbling amphitheater

Spectator to the specters of

A time gone by so quickly

It feels like lifetimes ago

Passerbys with inquiring minds

Stop by and wonder

What was this for?

What did they do here?

Who built this monument?

It's such shoddy craftmanship.

How could they think this would ever

stand the test of time?

I am the only one left

With the answers to their questions

With the knowledge to unlock

ancient secrets.

With clenched fist

And heavy heart

I tell them:

This is where we fucked!

This is where we bathed together!

This is where we made promise, after promise,

after promise, after promise, on the premise

that we could love each other in the ways that we needed.

This is where our love fell down!

Where it crumbled to the floor.

Because it was built on the lie

that you could love me the way I needed

And that I could trust you to do so.

Now the history of our civilization

Sits squarely on my shoulders

Gestates in the squirming chasm

Of my gut

And for the first time

I wish I didn't have

The heart of a poet

The heart of someone who can

Spin beauty from horror

There is no beauty in this

I would rather the heart

Of an archaeologist

Or an historian

Someone who can look upon the past

And not be sad that it's over

But glad that it happened.

Microdream // Grey

A black man asks me for money
So he can buy a fish sandwich from Captain D's
With a practiced tone I respond

"I'm sorry dude, but I have no cash on me."

In spite of his hunger
Or because of it
He lashes out
To provide a criticism
Often heard
And never forgotten

"You sound just like one of those white boys."

He walks off
As my beautiful, ugly body
Wilts in the dusky, summer heat
Torn between this world of black and white
With a voice white as snow
And skin as black as ash
I walk back to the bars
Down the grey, forgotten corridor
Between identity and isolation