a constant constriction
positioned where I cannot see
where I cannot know
which leades to hyper-awareness, constant thought
and question focused inward
I feel week
I feel confused
I am sensitive
I want so badly to curl up
yet I am restricted to my right side.
I wonder what is festering of growing inside of me,
In this moment I do not feel whole
let me say that the physical pain is not excruciating or unbearable but the mental effects are deafening.
Soil Sun and Sleep are my Holy Words
A whispered rush of blows
wind blown tissue paper petals
dissolve is swelling
this is my keeping of time
measures my months
(I adore that line)
and the forming of rigid ribs tells me that spring is near,
as is the diminishing of my locks.
No cheaper way to start the day but powerful and wakes you. u
Smokey rooms, bars, and dark hallways,
vapors sliding past each other. ©
Alone, with loved ones,
bitter lingering. ¤
Memories of wax and warm chocolate nights. ῼ
And a fruit-like perfume my mother sometimes wore. ¥
In comes the scent, out goes the stress. o
Playing chess, being comfy, and an old coffee shop,
in my hometown. ⱴ
Naming: Coffee, Coffee, Candel (First off I can’t spell), Candal,
late night TV benders. Ѭ
Agitated, nervous. Reminds me of walking into Yankee Candles in the mall,
I hate malls. Ю
Cruddy coffee scents tingle my dry nose hole,
other people’s breath. EW. Ҩ
Like a small business opened by and indisputably ‘perky’ woman,
post-sorority, one part coffee shop, one part scrapbooking boutique. Ѿ
Home on 45th street, hanging upside-down on the couch,
I realized then how hard she worked to take care of me. ҉
**This poem is a cento created from the brilliance that is our class. Many of these lines were powerful or spoke to me in some way. Thank you all for sharing your poetic abilities to create such an interesting patchwork. **
Attached is a powerpoint of the vessels i created with clay this spring. To me they speak of the process of learning and of embodiment, Enjoy!
I walk out to sea
the wind is cold and harsh now
in the morning spring
the vapor of mermaid tears
awaken within me fears.
A listless expression hangs upon my face,
I feel nothing, my fingers dance in
the void. Why am I this way?
am I not real, is that the rhyme
and reason for why I feel
so cut and dry?
am I trying to hide something