The past week

by christycelia

I’ve been slackin’. But I caught up. The beautiful part about poetry month is that each poem serves as a snapshot of that day’s feeling, images, and thoughts. So here goes. Of course some days are more inspiring than others. I wouldn’t call any of them fully fleshed out, but then again, NO DISCLAIMERS ALLOWED (aloud).

——

april 9th

wednesday.

in addition, you wore a peacock feather vest
and told me the guitar was for attracting
folks who can play guitar. the sun was gone
and the people were going and everytime the wind skipped a beat we thought –
what is that warm current? we all gasped. just a silent one
it was
like trade waves cursing down the ocean
like a piece of some such warmth could grace us.

and it was simply the still.
the horizon was crooked and
the neighborhood elegant and
the sun was gone. 

april 10th

(this is a song I am trying to collab w my brother on. I’m still trying to figure out how to embed audio onto wordpressss.)

it’s better with the light on
whatever else thought you can try on 

I can’t stand these lesions in my brain
makin me think makin me go insane

routines are pickin’ up quick
it is what makes me sick

pictures framed of all our dreams
everyone looks like kings and queens 

april 11th

there are old friends and then there are older. time is relative to space to awareness of body to awareness of gender to the personal to the political to plateau.
there has to be a plateau.
il doit être un mot de plateau.
there is.
il y a.
there has to be.
sight became blurrier and blurrier that night.
we drove home fast – faster than we should have.
it was never confusing. simply the same old story.
in a different room, paintings moved around, drums sitting dormant in the corner.

some friends mate for life, i’ve decided.
we slept in the same bed, no walls between
some phrases passed through half sleeping ears
it was warm, i remember. i hung onto 
the morning oncoming. and when it arrived,
it was as if the night had never happened.

april 12th

i ran around the day
in productive circles
until I swirled around and mixed in with  boiling water and artificial flavoring
and whatever it’s all a metaphor for.

this house is one planet
we orbit and peer out earthly windows.
spilling our thoughts out into puddles before one another
and no rage comes. just acceptance.

and back and forth on the same streets
I end up in a living room with crisscrossed legs
a morphing loop that bends and curls
depends on who talks to who and what drink is drank.

up too late again. 

april 13th

dazed of feeling and
days of people – I’m reeling
on the notion that something must be right
something’s gotta
be
                   but I don’t bother hold my breath anymore.
if it comes it comes
the mailman only delivers once a day
the same time, every day.
and if it comes it comes.
either way, I gotta sleep.
I gotta
get
to sleep. 

april 14th – a graveyard shift for the lunar eclipse

routine. phrases I wish I knew beyond the
bubbled fish tank reminders
steaming pot of tea reminders
knot in the upper back reminders. 

push it along.
– the process is bigger than the context.
it should all flow like one continuous creature
of knownth. 

change the process. keep the context.

april 15th – I’ll scratch your riff if you scratch mine

the progressions of the song i’m writing with donnie

It’s better with the light on
Whatever else thought you can try on
You can keep your eyes off
If it’s a deal too, we can sing songs 

I can’t understand these flares in my brain
Makin’ me think, makin’ me go insane
About the people that we used to be
All our wishes on the windowpane

The years are pickin’ up quick
It’s what makes me so damn sick
Pictures framed of all our dreams
Everyone looks like Kings and Queens
Pictures framed of all our dreams
Everyone looks like Kings and Queens
(We aren’t featured in a single thing) 

I can’t understand these flares in my brain
Makin’ me think, makin’ me go insane
About the people that we used to be
All our wishes on the windowpane

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