THE HALLUCINATOR

The hallucinator sees
the contents of their mind

spread out before them,
like dusty old knickknacks

brought up from the basement
and strewn out in the front yard.

Their minds become a
kaleidoscope.

They look at their life
and see themselves
as a miracle.

An accidental poem by this article in The Atlantic.

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Volunteer Park Conservatory, Seattle

THE SUNLIT UNKNOWN

Certain days, it
feels more real
than others.

Sudden understanding,
moments like a
wallet filled with
a finite number
of bills.

Curiosity asking:
“Just what will
I miss most?”

Young adults
everywhere wondering
what it takes: to
enjoy a job or to do
a job to enjoy life?

Intense but brief
relationships offer a
certain pattern–
patterns become the only
long-term investment.

Curiosity asking:
“Is there a moment
when you finally
feel adult?”

Turned off by the
idea of ‘waiting’
for damn near
anything.

Minds plugged into
computers, envious
of the coffeeshoppers
tapping feet to music,

Possibly reading,
researching, reflecting–
something personal
to gain.

Stretching ‘breaktime’
like a theraband.
Who’s watching?

Kiwi awnings at, I
admit, my favorite
coffeeshop.

Certain fondness,
a certain unknowing–
“What will I miss most?”

Never underestimate
the gravitational pull
of the place where
you gained financial
independence.

Also: where you
curated a fine group
of ‘adult’ friends.

Even when it feels
real, this hawk-shadow
of swooping change,
I can’t deny my
giddy disposition:

Us, hand in hand,
walking confidently
into the sunlit unknown.

 

Written on February 11, 2014…shortly after Brenton & I decided we would quit our jobs and relocate from Philadelphia to Seattle. We made the move on June 23, 2014.

 

 

PHILADELPHIA, NAKED.

It is a wonder that my eyes
may see the city from such
varied perches, day to day:

By bus–elevated so that
I may gaze indulgently
into wet, dirt-caked
cavities of construction sites
hidden when I am

By bike, so that the flawed
contours of road, frenzied
traffic patterns spill soft
city breath on my cheeks,
so stilled when I am

By foot, so that I may watch,
observe, stop at the apex of the
Walnut Street Bridge and see
(for the first time) clumps of
bright clothing, remnants
of bicycles, water bottles
sticking to the concrete
embankment below.

This poem was written on January 25, 2012, before I could even conceive of moving out west.

KEEPING TABS

The floating faces
on any garden variety
newsfeed are guaranteed
to radiate larger-than-life
satisfaction.

◆ ◆ ◆

Distance and timezones
three removed, I’m a
fool to rely on a daily
scroll to keep tabs

◆ ◆ ◆

A cherry-picked,
carefully composed
gallery is suited for
general consumption
only. Acquaintances,
rejoice.

◆ ◆ ◆

Time and again,
my heart tugs with
longing: they are so
happy and I’m missing
all of it.

◆ ◆ ◆

Time and again,
my heart leaps: we
chat, we text, we
converse. Their lives
are just as varied,
uncertain, exhausting,
lovely, rich and complex
as ever.

INTACT

There is no convenient
time to start over, share
bad news, be ‘off’ at work.

No convenient
time to be heartbroken,
a fact that keeps some
relationships dutifully
intact.

After seeking the abstract,
we search for absolutes.

Routines.
Fresh fruit.
Woven blankets on the sofa.

We labor over mutual interests,
Myers-Briggs compatibility,
and shared domesticity.

Moreover: affection!
Freedom from gender roles!

Still, the Venn diagram:
You maintaining your you-ness,
me maintaining my me-ness —
it’s what keeps our relationship
beautifully intact.

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Greenlake, Seattle