I wish I could string and sell
These beads of sweat;
They keep dripping in my eyes
And leaping
From the tip of my nose.
I can’t stop pulling on this rope –
The mine car can’t slip any further
Down those tracks.
I don’t know why I took this job
But it’s a challenge
And I hurt in every bone.
I’ve found muscles I never knew I had.
They’re singing so they must be helping.
I know I am never going home again.
This firelight and the ring of the hammers
On steel bars punching through the rock,
They dance in the furrows of my limbs;
I’m drenched because my mind
Hasn’t grown into this wiry body.
Veins like gnarled ivy,
Tendons like Brazilian peppers’ roots,
Fingers and arms like acacia limbs.
Archive for June, 1995
Hang On to the Rope
Posted: June 26, 1995 in PoetryTags: Bones, Car, Dance, Eye, Fire, Hammer, Home, Ivy, Mind, Muscle, Rock, Sing, Steel
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This is Not an Option
Posted: June 5, 1995 in PoetryTags: Believe, Child, Dream, Heart, Hope, Mind, Truth, Wing
Go now and learn;
The process never ends.
Go now and teach;
This is not an option.
You are the realization
Of the hopes and dreams of your parents
As they were theirs.
This is the way it has always been;
This is the way it shall be again.
To the children you will be perfect,
And you shall fall from grace.
You will be crucified for believing in yourself.
You will be denounced for telling the truth.
You will be taken to the temple
And tempted, seduced, and pressured.
Let your minds be your own,
Let your hearts be winged;
Lead your lives,
Don’t let your lives be led.
Oh how I wish I still had my voice
Full of fire and frogs and falcons,
Wisdom, water, and wedding songs.
Something is quenched within me now,
No time for me to find out how,
To prevent this erosion of my character.
Once upon a time I thought I’d never stop
I wrote until my hand would drop off
And the sun rose once again.
I am scared, I am frightened;
I am losing track of me
But I guess, since I have never been here
That at twenty three,
It’s called maturity.
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