deepundergroundpoetry.com
All the Understandings I wish I Could Give you
I am a snowstorm that loves the skeleton of others
I just don’t know how to let others love mine.
I have asked this rock beneath my feet if I am doing it right
but all I get is grinding halts,
wounds deepening as my feet tear on the miles
I thought it told me I needed to walk.
Today I watched life jump out of the sky
slip slip slipping first from the broken body of my wishes.
I asked my friend if she had seen it,
she told me to stop daydreaming.
But is it daydreaming to weigh your veins with forgotten syllables?
To calculate all that I lose
in the falling asteroids of what I dream about?
To coat my organs with the dust of solar systems
and hold out empty cups beneath the sun
so that I can see the colors I taint the world with?
If that is daydreaming, I can’t imagine a world without it.
I’ll continue drinking galaxies
so that I can remain close to the stars.
with rivers and trees, I’ll stitch the light in my stomach
to the buttons on my jacket
maybe then enough shadows will wrap themselves around me
then it doesn’t matter how I rage
my bones will remain unseen and hidden
and I won’t spill white constellations off my tongue
into extended, reaching fingers
that beg you to understand these scars on my bones.
I just don’t know how to let others love mine.
I have asked this rock beneath my feet if I am doing it right
but all I get is grinding halts,
wounds deepening as my feet tear on the miles
I thought it told me I needed to walk.
Today I watched life jump out of the sky
slip slip slipping first from the broken body of my wishes.
I asked my friend if she had seen it,
she told me to stop daydreaming.
But is it daydreaming to weigh your veins with forgotten syllables?
To calculate all that I lose
in the falling asteroids of what I dream about?
To coat my organs with the dust of solar systems
and hold out empty cups beneath the sun
so that I can see the colors I taint the world with?
If that is daydreaming, I can’t imagine a world without it.
I’ll continue drinking galaxies
so that I can remain close to the stars.
with rivers and trees, I’ll stitch the light in my stomach
to the buttons on my jacket
maybe then enough shadows will wrap themselves around me
then it doesn’t matter how I rage
my bones will remain unseen and hidden
and I won’t spill white constellations off my tongue
into extended, reaching fingers
that beg you to understand these scars on my bones.
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