Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Something About a Midnight Run (Press)

I can feel the rough asphalt under my feet,
knees aching from every jarring step,
as I run barefoot down the street.
Skin tears just as I run through a large puddle,
left on the sidewalk by someones late-night sprinklers,
and the footprints trailing behind me
alternate between the muddy grayish-brown
of the wet pavement, already starting to fade,
and a deep, bloody red.
My arms tremble in the cold midnight air as
hundreds of goosebumps spread across my uncovered skin.
Still I feel compelled to run by the same unknown
force that led me to begin this insane action,
barefoot, with only my shorts and tank top.
The heavy darkness surrounding me breaks only
every few houses or so when the muted light of the tall,
old-fashioned latern-like streetlights spills softly over me.
I run distractedly, almost unknowingly, only to
collapse into the large patch of grass behind
the park, four blocks away from my house.
Only now do I notice the pain of my
grit-covered, blood-stained foot and my sore knees.
I realize I'm panting, out of breath,
and I stretch out, trying to slow my runaway heart.
I close my eyes against the overpowering dark,
and ultimately fall asleep, curled up,
holding my legs close to keep from freezing
in the increasingly frigid air.
The purplepinkgoldorange light of the rising sun
caresses my skin and I slowly wake to the
warmth of the morning.
I manage to pull myself upright, and limp the
ten or twelve steps to the shelter of the
covered cement picnic area,
brushing early morning dew from my shivering arms.
Considering the lengthy walk back to my house,
I sit carefully on a plastic and wood bench,
and turn around to see your car pull up near me.
I sit, silently, as you get out and walk right to me,
as if you knew exactly where I was,
and why.
You pick me up gently and set me into the
blanket-covered front seat, and I lean my head
against the smudged glass of the window
as you drive slowly towards my house.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

My poetry from third grade (bless)

I wrote this in third grade and I am now looking beak on my work and diceded to post it.

The Arising Sun
The blinding fire-lighted sun
is arising above the people
of the earth
The sky is watching
night awakening
The owl is aselep

Saturday, August 05, 2006

Do You Ever? (press)

Do You Ever?

Feel alone
Left out of things
Do You Ever?
Feel non-existent
That no one cares
Do You Ever?
Feel you need that spot
All alone
Hidden in plain veiw
Do You Ever?
Feel unloved

Existence (press)


Is it a state of being
Or a state of mind
does it even exist?
Can we touch it
Or even hear it
does it even listen?
We can question it
Or even lecture it
does it even care?
Is it mine
Or is it yours
does it even belong?