How is it I exist
in duplicate
simultaneously?
This divisive self
preoccupied
unforgiving
Facing forward
always looking back
lost in moments
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknuton. Image my own)
How is it I exist
in duplicate
simultaneously?
This divisive self
preoccupied
unforgiving
Facing forward
always looking back
lost in moments
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknuton. Image my own)
That time, playing in the muck,
foot emerging without a boot,
hopping and laughing
all the way home…
Then, later, on the bus
the impact of the car
the windshield cracking
like a giant spider
blood all over
the dead lady’s face
All in the past –
sunroof open
kids riding along,
music blaring
But trauma is a spider
Arachne reaching into happy places
and as much as I speed up
to avoid her,
fight to disable
her attack;
she weaves herself new limbs,
begins the onslaught anew
And I am stuck in the mud again
no longer limber enough
to dance my way home in the rain.
(The Car Crash first appeared here in March of 2020. Edited for this version. Image my own.)
Dare I look for self
in cloud formations, as if
true essence dwells there?
Naturally, I search outward
afraid to find nothing within.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Ghosts have no shadows
they are unsubstantiated
rumours of a life…
I exist, not because
of my shadows, and despite
the times I’ve been ghosted
Ghosts and shadows –
without them I am two-dimensional
with them, I am poetry.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Anxiety burns
an acidic devouring
confidence impaled –
mind wanders to childhood dreams
uncovers fear’s origin.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. I came across this tanka written in May/21 that seemed to match with the image I recently posted on my other blog. I decided to pair them here.)
I attempt to predict
but the future is blank
Snapshots only portray
the past, fragmented
Sunsets might suggest,
birds leak probabilities
But I want to peek
behind the final curtain
Cut through the noise
of popular currents
Life is two-faced
deception paired
And row as I might
fighting the flow
Manna follows its own rhythm
nips at my fears, like a tail wind
Nothing in it but to breathe
Lighten this intense need to know
(Image my own)
Withdrawal does not negate
the duplicity of the situation
I am at once compliant
and unruly – conflicted
I do what I can to hush
the rule-breaker, amuse
her with trivial activities
but she is vociferous
Disapproval justify’s itself
with personal anecdotes,
as if judgement is queen
only fuelling righteous rage
I attempt to retreat further
but the beastly turmoil
has grown wings –
consequences knocking
Try as I might to swat it away
my excuses are flimsy,
I am without substantial argument –
best to open the door and let it out.
(Image my own)
If I could touch the heavens
feel the reassurance of other
I know I would soar, untethered
to this bank of rusty dreams
and eroded faith…
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
I mine my soul
for meaning
for reasoning
for hope..
find a tangle
of old and new…
revelation masked
as struggle
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Thoughts, no more than grains,
block the path; how did I become
so invested in self-analysis:
a fool’s game, no winners
Light does not trip over molecules
but decorates, celebrates passage;
moves on – a hopeful dance
whose steps I’d do well to imitate
(Image my own. Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson)