Worlds Away

what the nomad brought home

I see you

That’s it — enough.
I can get a lot more naked than I am right now, so watch me;
Let them raise their brows, but I’m about to go for broke.
No more playing to their pessimistic bets.

So much time just burning,
Sitting quiet, counting other people’s cards.
Well, I apologize.
Didn’t mean to drag this out, but
Who we kidding?
All you do is lose unless you risk enough to win.

So, fuck these poker faces, look me in the eye.
That’s right —
I’m smiling.
And I’m finished asking anybody else
How I should play my cards.
This round,
When it comes back to me,
You’re getting everything that I’ve been holding back;
I think I figured out what’s in your hand.

November 25, 2009 Posted by | Poetry | , , , , , | 4 Comments

November

Stagnant light falls sideways,
Expiring in a graveyard of branches stripped
By the fire of dying trees.
Remnants of the life of summer brittle underfoot,
The full moon turns to ice,
And the season’s short-lived blaze burns out precarious
As flames shrink into kindling, drop —
Apologetic embers —
To the earth, whose dreams of ripeness and fruition withered
In the cold and hollow winds that slashed the morning,
Forced their way in through its wounds,
And have replaced the warmth I lost
When autumn stole my sun.

I’ve never liked November.

 

After a long drive today through rural Maryland and Pennsylvania, I couldn’t help but feel that the weight of autumn has finally fallen upon us.  Barely any color left, it’s cold, dry, and dark-too-soon.  When a string of depressed, tiny towns gave way to where I live now, it was already near dusk; a day barely begun was already ending.  As you can tell, I’m not a big fan of the month’s arrival.  I sat down to write this very disorganized, hasty poem.

But my apologies to those who have a fondness for November — I don’t dislike the whole month.  I just don’t like the beginning of it.  But by the end of November, the holidays are approaching, and the warmth and color that have drained from the outdoors have reappeared inside homes and shops and hearts, and there is life again!

November 1, 2009 Posted by | Poetry, Time | , , , , , | 2 Comments