For this honors experience, I wanted to dive back into my love of words and poetry. I have been writing poetry for as long as I could read. I remember sitting in a tree in my grandmother’s front yard, writing my first poems as a seven-year-old. Not too long ago, I would fill in the margins of my notebooks in high school with poetry. I even wrote my high school senior thesis on the importance and often overlooked beauty of free verse poetry.
Although words have been a huge part of my life for years, ever since I graduated from high school I have hesitated to jump back into reading and writing poetry. In this honors experience, I had the opportunity to once again explore the world of words. I gained inspiration by reading Walt Whitman, Emily Dickenson, and E.E. Cummings; spending some time at poetry nights held at a nearby coffee shop; and simply pausing throughout the rush of the day to spend time outside.
Below is a selection of about 80 of 100 of my poems. Many are inspired by the sky, time, and my love of words.
the book of things
kt
give the words life.
thoughts
where the light touches
where the light touches we
shimmer
small specks of grey-green in the
twilight.
ever-gossamer stars, fascinated by our own
cool glow.
where the light touches we
sparkle
briefly, then
fade away, washed from the chalkboard sky by the
crimson tears of dawn.
where the light touches we
shudder
like television-static, breaking up a lightning’d sky,
falling like electric rain from
frazzled wires.
where the light touches we
glow
we
break
we
shine, then -
we disappear.
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look up
i see constellations in your eyes
the glimmer of galaxies
the sparkle of stars.
one glance and i’m
lying on the blacktop again
listening to the thoughts rush out as the other kids
run by-
they stare, for a second
ask why we’re
looking at the
darkness
but they don’t look up.
they only wonder at how strange it is that two people lie on the
ground when it’s
cold.
but there are pinpricks of light-!
so small, yet
bigger than a thousand
universes.
they don’t see how
the light shining on the pebbles blinks like
galaxies too and the way the sky stretches like a warm velvet blanket made of
cold outer space and
wraps around you in the dark,
reminding you that there’s so much
greater than this
little blue earth with its
flashes of light and its pin-cushion pines and its
rainy-still ponds and its
small.
so small.
we lay on a crystal of rock up in space and we look at the light and we
laugh and we cry and we
say our goodbyes-
but sometimes, just sometimes, we stare out at the stars
they’re lavender blue and they’ve been wrapped around you and your
ancestors since the world’s
first flare-
yet so often we forget that they’re there!
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diminished
we’re but
whistles in the wind
piecemealed back together with a
poem or a pin-
words etched out on a stone or two
or five or nine or ten-
small, and small, yet smaller-!
still is our demise
a wrinkled, icy hailstone
crushed, dropping from the skies
once majestic, now so common
melting in the rain
stares up from the sidewalk and
blindly blinks in vain.
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a piece of you
to think that
so many of my words,
like butterflies, are
pieces of you.
fragments
of your
radiance.
dewdrops of your
light.
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abstract rain
noise.
tattered flag.
ugly but it’s the
last symbol of
freedom.
brandished, burned
caught on the edge of the sword
tearing fear in two
breaks anew
river, swollen with rain, drips down a mountain
glistening red under a yellow moon
a single stone.
a scar.
a knife.
shouts.
a mother’s heart breaks under an umbrella.
a pinprick acorn, slowly crushed under a
burnished boot.
darkness.
light.
new rain on fresh-fallen grass.
dew on a cold hand.
hot water sizzles, slaps the pavement
flames, hungry fingers, spew hate on
red walls.
cracks in the cement.
lonely dandelion.
shattered world still peering at the sky
a star winks.
a plane whirrs.
metal shell falls to the earth.
tossed like a butterfly and then -
an atom splits.
silence...
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sky
sky.
tangerine-clouded mango wrapped like a
leaf around a cool blue
sphere.
dripping in twinkling jeweled lights that
fall from its fleecy banks in flaming
bursts of color.
it’s the rhythm and beat of humanity, stormy
turmoil sprinkling frozen shards of ice to the
ground.
it’s the cloud-whipped tornado that
sweeps into prismic color when the winds are gone but the
rain still mists
it’s power, and it’s peace
it’s broken, and it’s bright
it’s the first ray of sunshine that silences the weary night.
it’s the baby-pink sunrise and the vermillion-washed beach,
a silent-deep wasteland and a
soft’ning white sea.
it’s a paradox, bringing at once hope and despair
filled with light or
black with gloom.
sending heavenly tears to flood the
earth.
sky.
radiant, ever-changing canvas of
light.
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poetry
i
used to be a
dinosaur in my
past life
but somewhere,
at some distant childhood moment
someone
tore a piece of me
and
now i walk
alone.
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autumn tumbler
the crisp, full bodies of leaves
fall to the ground
lie in the warm-reflecting shadows of
puddles.
now wet and wrinkled, they
skim the pavement, dancing
with thoughts of
blaze-yellow berries.
tossed over the empty rocker of a
limb, peeling away
til they find themselves caught by the glow of a
bright-embered fire.
rolicking, endlessly, ‘til winter’s first frosts
freeze their light bodies within
cloud-etched icicles.
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a clean universe
the small dark
washes over blinking stars that
prick the dim night with
impenetrable light;
blotting the inky earth with
millions of blinking hopes;
scattered across the ground’s dark face;
speckling the clean universe with
shreds of white impenetrable light -
and the small dark
is diminished.
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pleasant face
draw dragon dotted
monogram mouth
freckled and spotted
hairline runs south
rivers of wrinkles
pushing past eyes
decades of dimples
eons of skies.
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on design
it is the natural order of humanity to see
art.
to visualize colors, running rivers of
motion and
shape and
paint.
to see light in the form of an oval,
shine in the outline of a star
contrast through the
blended layers of the sky
lines in the rhythm of music
furious scribbles in the order of anxiety
and the aching drops
of a burning mind.
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subtle-sleek
Are thoughts quiet?
Subtle, sleek -
Or breaking apart
They crack, they shriek
Are dreams anguished?
Do they fear -
Or only fill with
Unshed tears -
Are thoughts lonely?
Their one design
To determine
or decline -
Are thoughts vanquished?
Rote mentor
Spewing others’ dusty lore
Are thoughts magic?
Gift of God
Intelligence or
Just quite broad.
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photon sun
you are the sun in your own universe
the sunken glow of a
molten puddle.
spending eternity in wait,
eyeing the infinite orbits of
carbon-etched spheres.
watching the crystal stars spread
their photon-wings in
mock abandon.
spinning, careless of fate,
gazing upon shattered-glass
atoms and broken-eyed
comets.
you are the sun, seemingly
great, but merely
lost.
abandoned in your own swirling sea of
night.
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crowded
i just want to sit in the sun and
warm myself in its rays.
i’m sorry, is it hard to hear you over the
loudness of my thoughts?
they crush me under their
cluttered branches.
the foliage of thought seems deep and dim.
yet blindingly loud.
brilliantly loud.
speaking to me, the words crowd
my vision, making it impossible to
focus, though all i want is
peace.
to be able to sit and stare at the
sky and accept that it is
big and
blue.
to be able to gaze at the clouds and feel warmth and
nothing else.
to see the pale tree-needles and
state, with confidence that they are
green.
not merely to feel my soul bowed over and
heavy with
rain.
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a panicked raindrop
why do people run from the rain?
panicked and dismal, dripping in vain
droplets down drooping
icy and cool
fleeing the damp that rolls down to their soul.
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rainy day
little droplets slipping down the window
intricate, delicate
different, all the same
floating down the blue-gray horizon.
tossed among puddles, the one
drop becomes infinite
crashing, all together, in itself as
one
great
rivulet, in flourishing
power.
-kt
sudden storm
wet rain clings to my fingertips, tossing my
hair my
head my
hands.
cold clear rain pelts my hands like acryline
bullets, pulsing my skin til it
joins with my veins.
face toward the storm, mouth halfway open as i
laugh at the bullets,
laugh at the cold confidence of the
sky, though it
shatters and
clings to my lashes.
racing the rain, at once tired and
daring,
watching the wind-whipped clouds as they
coat the sky like lightning-dipped
frosting.
on the run, tasting the water as it
slaps my tongue-
breathing in the rain, electric with the energy of the
storm.
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to touch the sun
the sun rises on God's world every morning,
slipping its starstruck folds about a cool
earth.
the sun grazes earth’s face every morning,
blinking as it stumbles near, then
receding into the night sky.
what would it be like to bite into the sun?
its rosy gold juice pouring like
steam from
planet-orbed pores.
to slip your teeth round its soft fiery glow,
to bask in the burn?
what would it be like to bite
into the sun?
i wonder
and my mind seems to hear
the clack of fire on stone.
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hyphen-tide
the lake's blue skin
wrinkles, then tears-
like an abstract, watery wound
it drips upon the shore
spreading endless aquamarine harmony,
bursting like a bridge, folding beneath the linear power of a
current-thundering flood
the tides rise in and pause,
elevate themselves, merge with sky and
sun-browed universe.
the tide melds with the lovely blue glow of the horizon,
freckles the land with fine hyphens of water-drops,
then dissolves into mist.
-kt
On the sweet taste of the universe
Number the stars.
Can't you see how they are uncontainable?
How their vastness melts across the surface of the earth with some great light?
Look at them.
The very rolling of that velvet blackness sends fire
melting across your tongue
look at the stars.
candy coated sprinkles
pop rocks, melded in fire across the cavernous heavens.
their faint glow,
eons of light-years away,
still leaves the sweetest taste in my mouth.
-kt
gold bone army
the trees with their skeleton arms
reach,
leaning, touching the sky
scratching gold out of its
grey surface
sunrays, etched into black board
monochrome abstract of black and streak
bony trees, wrapped in gold filament
clutching the cloak of the sky close to their
frail bodies.
gasping for some last, bleeding ray of
warmth.
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showers
watching the puddled rain pool in circles from the
showerhead, flinging its transparent blood towards the unforgiving
tile.
it slips, round and
tall from the
fountain-head which is its
mother,
pulling itself apart into
myriad little
shreds.
softly, water-droplets
ring the surface of the earth like
gold on fine china,
rare - then
spatter the sidewalk with shimmering light.
like jewel-clear sequins, spilling and
pooling within the radiant.
sheeny, metallic, bold, rocking and rimming the
ever-building circles with
ringlets of their own.
prolific, pacific, spreading across pavement, spreading across the rain til only
starry gleams remain upon the sea.
that fire mist which
coats the droplets
cling to the walls, clings to my hair, coats
milky heav’n and
rainbowed earth in
whistling serenity.
the source of the sky-ocean stopped, only the
memory remains.
only the light-tattered sky-droplet stays,
forgotten in the sun,
forgotten in its
unfamiliar glow.
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sky / eye
the clear, stark, blue rim of the
sky
rolls like a bowl into the
sea.
flutters in the hazy morning
gleam of
light-fettered dust.
waves of color wrap and fade the highway of the earth’s
surface, rippling in insane lines towards the orb’s dark
center.
bristles of sound halo the planet, echo the crystal
sun.
and the great blue roundness of the earth lies,
diminished -
an icicle adrift in the current of
space.
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youth
d r e a m i n g o f a n t a r t i c a
you are pure art
unity of form, of movement, unblemished
perfect
but i can’t touch you.
i’m separated by your light
blocked out by your curtain of glow
permeating, reaching through me
it’s that eternal desire
mankind reaches, stretches
searching for love, for meaning
drowning in our history, wanting something
great.
we reach for the heavens, scraping the stars-
but our fingers blossom and burn.
the pure, crystal atmosphere merely
seeps our own lungs in
vacuum.
however much we
reach
however much we
desire-
we still remain fenced within a cage of our own making.
we’re cold
locked in icy prisms, merely
dreaming of
antarctica.
-kt
second draft
i am a book
that is being rewritten
bare, then bold at the
blink of an eye
i am a star
with the moon it is smitten
bright, then white as a
salt-spangled sky
i am a candle
like silver wind its smoke whispers
snap, and light-flame turns to dust
i am a mind
that is patchworked and glist’ning
watch, and patchwork turns to rust.
-kt
warmth
that braided-grass smile
it flits upon her unexpectedly
the dewdrops of a voice when they
crystalize upon her lips
the radiant threading lines
as they stem across a face now clouded
trails of light, or beams of water
as they cut their sunburned creases
crossing rainy fields of freckles
forming leaping sunny rivers
trailing all across the morning
breezes dancing in their wake -
and the warmth of it spreads, flitting, spinning
flipping towards her face.
-kt
the sunshine people
some people are pure light
a rope of stars
wading through the darkness
stretched, almost to breaking,
winking out into blackness, sizzling like a broken
bulb-yet, still
the sunshine people continue to
bestow light-
never mind that they’re
fading away!
some people are
beautiful in their flaws
like cracked pavement reflecting in the rain.
trampled underfoot, crushed with
words, battered in a hailstorm of hurt-
“look at you, all grey and dark and broken and battered-!”
how can they be so blind?
how can they attempt to
stamp out another’s weak light?
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sidewalk love
your love is like the
rough chalk that scrapes neon
powder onto the
sidewalk.
bold and
bright and
unfinished.
your love is like a radiant
edged stone,
crumbling gently into
reality.
so new and
clean and
faded.
i can only hope that you will not be
washed
away.
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dazed
dazed,
bewildered
tossing on high
soaring on
daydreams
melting the
sky
flipping in rivulets
skipping through souls
oh what a strange thing it
is to grow old!
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on a pond
i feel like i just realized i’m
growing up.
staring with your eyes closed at the
cool mists of a faded-gray pond
listening to the slap of water on water
a stray droplet specks your cheek, you
open your eye for a second
gaze at the faded bristles of
pines and cedars standing out, stark, on the
cool, sharp
evening sky-
a stray bird bobs its head, dipping
in and out of sight upon the still screen of the lake.
scratched by the wind.
a rust patch peers through the green of the
bench, strokes your fingers
gently, gently.
you breathe in the sweet, green rot of
pond upon stones and a million memories
wash over you at
once, lapping across the horizons of your mind
like the faded grey clouds that blossom
against the sky.
you taste the sweet, silent dew as it brushes your
lips and realize you just
want
life
to
stand
still.
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alive
being alive is a gift-
enjoy it.
breathe deeply and
roll fully in it.
soak up the goodness of the
sun.
drip in all the goodness of the
sky.
wrap yourself in the clouds, envelop yourself among
the birds’ fluttering wings.
swoop and soar, bend and breathe,
bathe in the still of the starlight.
only wash yourself in the plains of the sky,
and you shall feel clean at last.
-kt
i am content
i am content with a sunset.
with your love, and a sunset
streaked across the earth’s pane.
i am content with a cloudburst.
with your love, and a cloudburst
dancing upon the ceiling of rain.
i am content with a starred-night.
with your love, and a starred-night
pricked with light and space.
i am content with you, and my life
with your love, and my life
echoing in light’s pure taste.
-kt
violets
i stare out upon the
blue glaze of summer
her wide irises stare back
an infinite milky gaze reflecting like powdered chalk,
skimming the surface of imagination.
listen,
do you hear it?
the sound of silence.
of peace dripping in, like rain upon my pen.
slipping like violets, crushed lightly underfoot,
bounding in inviolate indigo energy.
shhh,
do you see it?
over, across the horizon
there, just there-!
a single, perfect, pure spot of joy
lines the blossoming clouds as they pour like
smoke from the great emerald jaws of the horizon.
there, over the hilltops-!
caught among the well-crowned boughs of summer
the speck of blissful peace lies close, within
reach.
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lovely
beautiful human
how i never guessed you would
envelop my world.
-kt
outside work
they are so beautiful in the sunlight
finally real and
alive.
earth-child, long hidden in the
capsule of darkness,
breaking forth like a cool
geode within splinters of gold.
alive, arched, unanchored, free -
not tossed into the ash heap, rolling in scurrilous splendor
not beetle-bugged within leafy jungles
of their own disbelief
and these new sunlight people -
these old sunlight people -
they glimmer and gleam, whitewashed and
clean
innocent and unaware
transfixed in time.
-kt
pop rock stars
number the stars.
can’t you see how they are uncontainable?
how their vastness melts across the surface of the earth with some great light?
look at them.
the very rolling of that velvet blackness sends
fire melting across your tongue.
look at the stars.
candy-coated sprinkles
pop-rocks, melded in fire, across the cavernous heavens
their faint glow,
eons of lightyears away,
still leaves the sweetest taste in my mouth.
-kt
40 thousand
there’s forty-thousand people on this beach tonight.
forty-thousand crowded people
aching in the starlight.
they’re staring at the glitter -
staring at the gold-green glitter
which swipes and scrapes the sky in
dripping volumes.
their shapes are dazzling.
distracting, in how they cast our
darkening forms across the
shore.
all eyes are
cast upon the sky, rocking its inky
blackness from
atmosphere to
iris.
but I, I cannot keep my face from the
waves, from their crisp curling tendrils which lap faintly,
fondly against the sand.
i cannot tear my sight from the land, melting like sugar in the water’s warm
lips.
from the way the sea lies like lace and like
scarlet, stiff -
then full -
against the thrust of the earth.
from the morse-code of
bubbles and
droplets, diveting the creamy grey
shore in
stretched grey diamonds.
the sea is round and scuffed, like a quarter,
the land hard and cold and thin, thin as a dime’s
rough edge.
it ridges and bends, resolute in its cavernous
cliffs and deep
cold.
i stand
(in the sand)
let my toes roll in its
folds -
sink into the unending
zero which is the sunken sky -
i stand in the sand alone -
though forty-thousand people sit, hushed, nearby.
-kt
highway song
it’s those crosses on the highway -
shivering, tremulous in the
scattershot air like
coarse strings plucked -
they stand in the stones off the median like broken white teeth,
like teeth which have weathered and rot in their
heroin-sugar.
cracked glass from a
satyr ston’d.
they tremble in the air, insecure upon the
tendril of a tendon, their thin stakes planted only so
firmly against the
ground.
strings of earth’s very
harp.
their ribbons ruffle one another, intertwined, braced,
abrasive.
and white, so, so white.
dreadfully pale, like the frightened birds which
mark the grave-picked rubble-
little pale pickets, stolid and
steady like the firm light backs of the
sparrows on a fence.
like the dirty, forgotten sparrows.
sparrows by the grave-picked rubble where once
sirens streamed and lights
flared.
yet we still flow by -
cars rumbling, oil pumping, dazzling the exhaust which pours from our
blind-open faces.
irreverent of the danger close at hand.
ignorant of those last wailing notes of life which once,
not too long ago,
mingled with the notes those
sirens sung.
swishing the ribbons which
dangle and fold like the feathers of those sparrows,
swishing the ribbons which press
tremulous arms towards the trucks’
sharp tires.
gripping the angle where rubber meets
stone.
forgotten memories among the asphalt,
spill among the asphalt,
dusty and
alone.
-kt
words
letter drip
words drip from my
fingers
into my
pen.
they flood the page, then they
race back
again.
lett’rs split like
raindrops
falling in
twain.
they slip and they
flip as they
dance down the
pane.
words flow like water, they
crackle like
ice.
a cloud-chilled black
medley with
inklings of
spice.
syllables, like rivers
splash towards the
sea.
of paragraphs, puddling like
oceans of
beats.
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inescapable
staring at the throbbing, vivid hum of humanity
words pour out of me.
they have no limit, reaching, grasping, defying all borders
keeping me awake, rushing through my head as I
stare at the clock.
like Hamlet, I am afflicted by
words.
-kt
lifelike
the first time you look at me, i am blindingly
bright
beautiful.
i am the one pulsing behind every street corner, bustling through nurseries.
i am the feeble gleam within the oldest of your people
yet, seldom do you think of me
of the force of my soul, burning through rivers, scratching the sky
bearing a transparent ribbon, weaving through creatures
i am the spark within the firefly
flipping its wings for a moment -
then i am gone
i am behind the iridescent eyes of the newborn child
the chatter of the squirrel and the green of the oak tree
the bend of each and every curving leaf
yet, every leaf crumbles
every step fades
every soul slips
every smile is stolen
every star shrinks and i
fade away.
-kt
urge
the inexplicable urge to create
it draws at me, tugging,
scrawling across pages, over notes, under tables
words pour through my fingers like water
sieves of words, softly falling, shattering
against the page like broken
china sheltering boxes of letters,
blotches, fragments, rivers of
words
like sandpaper, rubbing away at the creases of my
mouth, fighting icy boredom like
fire, spewing inky
scallops like seashells on a
paper-white beach.
and the words, always the words-!
their pigeon-paws come running back to
me.
-kt
ink
the falling of the words
dazzles the page
serifed lightning bugs draped in ink
an endless shower of images
eternally scratched into a single fold of time by a
wild mind running from the rain.
a sweet breeze races across the lawn-
sizzles and singes the hot grass
scrapes her mind, just for an instant
before it’s imprinted, indelible in memory.
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water-words
the rain blots the
still crescendo’d spirals of my pen, and i
smile as the words which have
poured from my head now
streak
down
the
page.
-kt
released
fragmented frontal lobe
pulsing with thought
the words are waiting
watching through needle-sharp iris for
some drop of wind, some fog, some frost-streaked pane
to soothe their ever-anxious sight.
sound.
overwhelming, all-encompassing
blocking the words, trapping them within, until they
pound at the temples.
brave thoughts, valiant thoughts
eager, desperate to escape, to do some damage-
thoughts-
perpetual thoughts-
their many-colored stubble, swirling through the fields of
imagination.
words smooth stubble into endless flat plains of
letters, infinite grassy knolls where one can lie down and
dream.
only when the words have left is there any semblance of
silence of thought.
words-
and dreams
are my escape from reality.
-kt
permit my pen to cease
i write until
the light goes down
til sky scrapes earth in pinking shades.
til night comes, static,
flowing with white-spangled tresses
o’er evenings purple shade.
i write until the infinite kiss of the earth
bends upward for all space to hear.
then, only then, will i
permit my pen to cease.
then, only then, will i
greet the night as an old friend
and retire til morning.
-kt
she shuffles words
she shuffles words
forming them into shapes no one’s
seen before.
ripping the keys from the screen,
tearing them from the typewriter
heaving them haphazard in ripples cross a page
glazing the letters, like cream colored tile, and
running their serifs across her
fingers.
their sharp bristles prick at her spine.
the cool, round curves and humps of the letters
brush upward across her chest, deep green
like the back of a leaf.
and she feels the taste, the taste of the
letters across her tongue -
rich against the back
of her throat.
-kt
drain
snap!
wa ter
drop lets
beam down the
drain.
pop!
they crack
le in
the rain.
bang!
they burst
like can
dy stones.
flit!
they dry
up to
their home.
-kt
time
city to me
heartbeat raps on the battered lawn door
and dreams go tap on the old cement floor
and the mind is swinging, swinging along
as the old - boom - clock is clonking its song
and the days, the days are waddling along
and the ways, the ways life beats its rhythm
by the glow, the glow of a dirty streetlight
near the road, the road, in the middle of the night.
-kt
semblance
what if all this stopped being
real
some time ago and
we’ve all just fallen into a
waking dream.
what if one day the assembly-line sky of our
imaginations just
blotted away reality as we
pretend to live on-
but
in reality we’re only
sleeping.
-kt
time is a ballroom
Time
is a ballroom
ribbons and folds
waltzes and marches o’er
night-paths like
gold.
Days
are a prison
open, but bright
yet so often we hide from
confinement of
light.
Years
fly like seasons
harvests, then cold
too quickly their measure
wilts down and grows
old.
Life,
like a myriad of
shattered-glass spires
colors the pavement as
time whirls ‘long the
wires.
-kt
seconds
there are millions,
millions of actions we could do
each and every second
yet we
form limits
build walls
create routines
seek monotony.
imagine -
every second is a moment where
you could change your life
an opportunity
would you take it?
-kt
dive
just a wink
just a flip of an eye
just to drink
just to dip in the sky
just an inch
just a mile or two
just a kid
just a spiral of youth.
-kt
When Our Time Is Up
When our time is up, will we
Remember the joy that we saw in
Another’s eyes as the
Stars dimmed out and the
Field hummed softly-?
The words, always the words
They go on
Leaving
Darting
Sometimes spotty
Gone for a minute, a year
But back again, flowing, like pictures, thoughts
Spilled on paper, like milk soaking through and-
Time spins on.
Yet we’re caught in the moments
Staring at little bothersome details as a
Whole portrait is painted
Seeing only the speck in a masterpiece
A double letter in the novel
While the whole sheaf of papers dazzles in the dew
Time spills on, rushing, flowing
Continues to tip and whirl
Some moments blur like paint in spilled ink.
Colors, words, laughter
These are the brief moments, memories that we call
Life.
So wonderful, yet so brief-!
-kt
the pier
darkness stands on the
edge of the pier.
horizon meets
icy indigo beach
an infinite watery sea of
blue-black night.
the boundless stars sprinkle light about the earth’s
cool sphere while endless
waves lap weathered boards with
rough emotion.
she feels the urge to reach, to climb, to pull herself
up, over the railing, clutching at the trails of light as their blinking rope guides her onward,
wishing to be one with the endless blackness that is night. to be swallowed whole by the peaceful vacuum of time.
the planes of history seem to stop, to intersect
standing still on the axis of eternity, wobbling on the brink of the infinite abyss -
the warm shore-breeze envelops her and she gently
tips, softly
tilting through the air like a broken
leaf that has forgotten its past
life,
forgotten its
roots, its branches - and she is
falling.
tumbling past the aged wood posts of the pier until at last
she meets the cold ocean kiss of the
ever-lapping waves.
the infinite cool black swallows her and she feels herself letting
go.
drifting-
free.
-kt
star-pepper
stars pepper the sky
like white-rimmed fireflies
slowly burning out in the
great darkness.
days speckle the earth
like milky dewdrops
glistening on the gossamer-strand of time.
men fragment the land
like a broken-flecked mirror
etching castles in dusty earth.
lives slip through the world
softly rotating like planets
‘til the silent strands of night cover them all.
-kt
hold the rain
hold the rain.
hold the tears of the soul which so quickly echo and
bask and
wash away.
hold the rain as the tears of the sky slip down
thundering and
wailing in the moment, then
bursting forth from
cloud-baked heavens,
resplendent in fog-etched glamour,
the sorrows of some celestial soul drip, then
dry like wisps of sunshine caught among the rooftops.
folding into cataclysmic spirals, rocking into mere memories of
rivulets.
how quickly do the quiet rivers
rumble-!
how quickly do the tears of heaven fade-!
only in life
as earth’s rough waters tumble
we soon forget all hope, are carried to the grave.
-kt
let the moons pass by
let the moons pass by
let them pass by dancing
let them pass by dancing and twirling in the night.
let the stars pass by
let them pass by glowing
let them pass by glowing and shimm’ring with gold light
let the fields pass by
let them pass by spinning
let them pass by spinning and hymning through earth’s glare
but you, oh my child,
you shall not pass by
but shall rise up, awakened, in the air-!
-kt
to the unknown, entomb’d
“there was a world before us...yes, even below us...”
come,
stay awhile...
two dog tags.
a letter.
a hair ribbon from some lover long ago.
wrapped in the scrap of a knapsack
some sundry worthless fragments of tin and steel
these are all that remain of a father
a lover-
a brother-
and for what?
washed away, like tide-shards on a beach?
crushed into the ashes, like so many crumbling cigarettes?
scraped into the earth, like clay pigeons,
tumbling from
the sky?
bounded and bonded among brushed metal, like a
crudely fashioned nail of iron?
what gains it, for a man, to allow his body to be burned,
his lifetime to lie shattered and spoiled among the dust?
his figure splattered and melded with pavement like so much
empty clay?
how fares he, when his life, his loves, his achievements are
brushed up into a
wastebin-
so many fragments of a man.
so many fragments of
tin and
bone and
cloth.
and how menial are the chirps of
“liberty” or
“freedom” or
“patriotism!” when the bones of
human souls lie, scattered in the ashes.
and all for what?
for a plot of ground?
for a breath of wind?
there, you may pass on now.
but oh my darling, tread carefully-!
for the memories of dear, plundered
humanity
lie below-!
-kt
november: the frost child
the frost lies crisp against the pumpkins
shivering breath against their warm sides
inching up, white and brittle, against round flesh
eating away October's ripe harvest
supple sides now crumble with age,
golden fruit now a burning-white beacon in the dew
and the frosts' cool, viselike grip upon the sides of the fruit
"melts, thaws, and dissolves itself into a dew"
like Denmark's prince, long weary of life and limb
folding itself into loose-shaken ringlets
and autumn's sweet orange heart
lies consumed in the
dust.
-kt
the sky-elevator
there is an elevator lies lies askant the earth
that floats from beam to bob on some
unwearied chain
which rocks and rolls within magnetic mirth
an asteroid adrift in gold-flecked rain.
and the elevator swings from rift to pass
like nebulae rotating in full bloom
the color of the stars begins to blossom
its beauty flecked alone by many moons
and this sea abounds with inf’ite constellations
rotating long past rolling spherey balls
like marble, spreading stony and contagious
crossing its beams ‘bout the universe’s hall
oh, to sleep alone aside a sunset-!
oh, to rest among the burning beams
oh, to wrap the sunlight into garlands
and to snap the cinders into keys
til the final, brilliant, radiant starbursts
curl brighter into loos’ning streams
and the spirals break that crystal chamber
to prick the sleeper, now at last at peace.
-kt
darkly
the end
crash.
the world goes smash.
one falls.
many lives
looking down
realize
that hospital bed
was full of
lies.
-kt
winking out
an even rhythm
ripples, crumbles
broken stardust streams through dark hands
the end of an age-!
no rest, it rumbles
hear the tingling hourglass-sands
drips of rain-
flake from cloudbacks
drape the world in grey and white
foggy plains
aghast and breathless
g·a·s·p
then smothered, without light.
-kt
Tangled Turmoil
We are all controlled by strings Essences of lifeless things Void of laughter, void of wrong Missing mind and joy and song Missing laughter, missing time Gaining endless work and grime Losing rhythm, losing beat Groveling on foul-laced street We were worthless, were despised Fought with fury, blinded eyes Fought and stumbled, fought with shame Lost all glory in our names We were drowning, in the muck We were lost, we were stuck Broken, fragments of our lives Patched together in a guise We were patchwork, we were grains Of a shattered pott’ry vase Couldn’t turn away our sights Or destroy strings, woven tight We were sinking in the brook We were lost, all forsook We were flound’ring underneath A masterpiece of unbelief We were tangled, we were shorn We were dying, when we’re born We were lost in lands of bones Deserted under catacombs Tied onto a subway track Hearing the wheels go click and clack We were forgeries, we were vain We were proud and torn with pain Rocked in cataclysmic lies Filled with ghastly hopes and cries We were shriveling, all insane We were making our own chains Grasping at the promised key Hoping for eternity Minds were darkness, empty tombs What thoughts do fester in those lifeless rooms! Void of laughter, shaped of stones Idols to our lifeless bones In our coffins, lid nailed shut On the ground had tombstones put With every conscious misbehave Decidedly deepened our new graves Suffocated, the stale air Gloomy thoughts imprisoned there Light now streams, but broken minds Never can true life realize Land deserted, splashing waves Roll down our salt-streaked, empty face Shattered china, roaring cliff Bottlenecked within this rift Corked and pinned like some great leaf An insect broken and in grief Roiling lava, burning cave Fiery comets on our graves Deadly lash, the weight of lives Spent in worthless ego time Colorless crosshatch, red reprise Here go now our wasted lives.
-kt
as i move on
even
all the stars in the sky
couldn’t stop you.
couldn’t stop your daring smile, as you
blinked at the bridge in one last
stand
against the sneering world.
couldn’t keep you from stumbling
onward, determined to pluck
the black-browed crown from the cloudy-peak of no return.
couldn’t erase the all-encompassing sense of mortality that finally
washed over you and
swallowed you
whole.
so i whisper, and wonder why i’m
standing on the edge of an overwhelming
sense of reality.
-kt
i hear the sky mourning
i hear the sky mourning.
the people twist and sing in the rain
yet the earth drips benevolently.
i hear the land sizzling.
burnt bolts of lightning strike the dust-clad ground
yet the chapped land sips fire through famished lips.
i hear the hail crackling
solid simmering ice against fire-scarred timber
i hear the stones tumble, rattling gravel through their salt-strewn beds
i taste the tongues of fire, stripping the bare-branched earth like
some great yellow dragon
i watch as the drought, streaming fire from its brass belly, swallows up the brittle grasses
i hear the earth pass away-
and i stand alone.
-kt
november twenty-eight
mailslot eyes
looking through me, listless, forgotten-
dreary eyes
shocking eyes.
their cold, clear gaze blinks once, staring straight through me.
phantom, where do you come from?
i whisper, hardly daring to
glance away.
the wordless stare sends a
blue shiver down my
empty spine.
those eyes, those darkening, chasm-rocked eyes-!
they are my own.
-kt
temptation
the chord of tension-
stretched so tight that if a finger falls upon its gentle line
all will break-
shattering in a cacophony of
cantankerous dischord.
notes plucked, one by one, til one last nerve-wire
remains.
its garbled music stripped and strained,
hanging threadbare in the wind-
do not touch it, gentle stranger!
though it tempts like crackling ice-
do not press that chord of tension!
lest all the chaos of sound gently break!
-kt
after the funeral
the heavy air wrings its
aching fists upon my
trembling hands.
the land buzzes, vibrates, rolls with motion
tumbling my thoughts,
making my head spin
pressing upon gasping lungs
mind dips, deep-drinking the humidity,
inebriated with the chaos of the
deeps.
-kt
heavy soul
her soul feels
thick.
her eyes are lowered and
swampy.
seeking, wanting to free herself
for a moment from the words.
from the thoughts.
wanting to free herself from her
mind so that
she can see clearly at
last.
-kt
leaf cyclone
it’s days like these
where the world’s beauty is so wonderfully terrible
that I’m afraid to show my face to it.
where the carcasses of leaves whirl within dusty
cyclones, sticking their pointed paper-claws into my
face.
origami hands.
their sharp sticky fingers grasp at my
eyes.
lovely, leafy hands
pricking the people with
stars in their
eyes.
-kt
australia
the world is not a gridpoint of toothpicks.
no, how could we reduce our
granite forests
to such irreverent gleam?
shattering the splintered woods into
sturdy beacons, breaking the beauty of a solitary
universe between
bend and brim.
bottling the still, quiet song of the starlight within your
polluted horizons, yea, trample upon it, churn it within your factories,
shackle it, wreck it and trample it and
tear the thin lands apart until their
pearl-sandy beaches
disintegrate.
what is the world, unless it is
quantified callously?
how can we auction the beauty written in
the abacus of our fingertips?
and what should be man’s desire - to
burn and to
break and to bend and
brim this
earth-weary load -
no, it will explode!
-kt
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