"i am iceland" and other works; a short collection of poetry
Growing tall with all your might
I know it’s like a bedtime story,
Those ones you knew not to be true
But when you feel the morning
Upon your scintillate petals
Cannot help feel that things
Are following the seasons as they do.
If I stared into my own eyes
I’m not sure I could stomach it.
Getting lost in those glacier pits
Would be a terrible fate.
This blistering wind chill of
Past abuse and misunderstandings above,
Memories that cut through ice below-
That layer of glistening
Choice and awareness.
Now these silver scales of
Courage flicker tenderly in the
Waters of the iris for
Only milliseconds at a time.
It’s what sparked your hunter’s instincts
As you wielded your fishing pole
Venturing into untamed deep.
Trekking through boulders and bullying pine trees
The bite from the air makes grown men wish
They had the fur of the happily hibernating bear
That live somewhere underneath.
Tripping over thickets of thorn-encrusted weed
The hook from your rod sticks your back and you cry.
The blue of this pain outweighs your need for sport
All you want is a fire blazing strong and bright
Blankets on leather couches
With your catch of the day roasting and smelling sweet,
But now you are trapped and lame from
That god-damned frozen terrain
Unsure of where to go because now you’re lost
In this dangerous game.
I am Iceland
I am Iceland
Green-lit waters glowing black in
Bruises healing softly
With wilted violet petals salting
a violent terrain.
Volcanoes brewing softly making
Birdies caw and crow in the thoughts
Of grey sky above them.
When I met you.
You were my moss growing green
And new and
Out of desolate ground where no hope was kept
Where nature had just stopped trying.
Springtime was coming and everything was shaking
Quaking with anticipation and warmth
And turning into what surely must be heaven.
I’d still play with you
I’d still live in fantasy with you
Just to pass the time
Until I figure it out
I don’t know
I just love you I guess
But it’s no big deal
Because you just don’t feel
Fuck it’s okay
Cuz I’m used to this
Or something like this
All I know is you make me feel
Like a child
Like a babe
Like I saw the color sapphire the very first time
You could be mine
Or something like that.
I’ll just live with perpetual heart attack
And lose my breath.
I’d still be your puppy dog.
Please come drool over me
And live like honey bees.
I’d still play with you.
Stand Up Routine
tattered blue velvet costumes
dustied-up in a trunk
mean bruises – teeth marks on my skin
weathered thin from your
clean and dapper like your whiskers
won me over
that simple cadence of a joke:
Remembrance of caramel laughter
clashes with your tequila punchline
producing stale sniggers
that wilt away into emptiness –
a wasted weekday of midsummer
weighing fat and cold and awkward on my center
because silver-tonged wit used as guns and blades
soon gets tarnished
when the tune you sing
reverberates echoes of