Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Time Travel

Every time I clean my room, I end up getting distracted by old diaries. I started writing them when I was seven or eight years old and wrote a LOT, especially in high school. You go through so many changes in such a short amount of time, and it never fails to amuse me to look back. Here's another silly, romantic poem I wrote. This one's dated January 20, 2006, also about the time this photo was taken.


he could never hear it from my lips
it is too much to say. Too much to give away

what an ocean of sheet rock pounding through the harbor- won't he harp at me again?
I might see him in the end

sinking down the black waters, chasing the slow-swimming fish
with their puckering lips

I'd love to kiss him with my own amidst the dead, the murderous blue
he would steal me through and through

like the hydrogen hydrogen oxide
and he'd breathe into my two eyes

singing spirituals he wrote for me and God, surrounded by the life with lips that eat
but do not speak

madness pervades me, I do not know the dock from the rock from the sea
nor the parrot from the owl from the germ
as he lets me feel unnerved

is that him-floating by
on the watershades, so low, so high?

no...it could never be
he could never swim so near my lips

that they could reach his fish-friend face
(I know and love each soaking trace)

-to kiss him with these soundless lips

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