Wookinator

I write poetry, okay? While you are learning dead languages, I am stretching the limitations of my native tongue. I write poetry! As you are playing chess on your pretentious Mac Book Pro, I apply formal logic to my thoughts on the page. I am a poet. You hold wine tasting parties, and I throw down liquor to the scratching of my pen. I write poetry, and while you are listening to impressively obscure bands , I am sitting in silence and organizing symphonies in my head. You scoff, You read Vonnegut, (he's much hipper than Yeats or Donne) and you sniff pompously at my simplistic joy. I am so common. I write poetry.

From the inside of these goggles from the inside looking out of this neutral microcosm Observation, moments, doubt From my spot here on this hillside From within this lighted pool From a limited experience of gentle heart and fool All I see from every angle are the same angles I know For within this 'endless' knowledge once I'm past it, where's to go? Learning only meets the limits Understanding calls for more I see one more foggy window beat on one more pretty door Laughing here on my sad window my soon-forgotten sill Living just here in my goggles Buried wisdom, burning will I am happy in my window Knowing this is all I

Sunrise for the Nihilist We drank in the pistachio sunrise, let it paint our lips crimson, and watched as it rolled from the East just to fill our shells with inspired contemplation You turned to me, glowing in the rising sun's wake, and whispered like a fairy through my tangled-up hair: "What dreams can tear us from this waking paradise? For this beauty that greets me, I know no match in slumber!" Reclining on the knoll, I fit you to my side Head to shoulder we lay, feeling grateful and aware No matter our destiny we enjoy our existence, and breathe while we can So pity I Jarrell, who shakes on his 90th North as I w

The vacuum runs the upstairs after-party I'm settled in my bed typing I'm translating images into black sticks I'm watching dull letters occupy the prism Grandpa throws my shoes downstairs He's yelling about the mess the family made I'm wondering if he really is as mad as he sounds I'm weighing sound over appearance and coming up blank I forget I'm supposed to be writing He steps in and interrupts my typing His face withered and tanned, he crinkles I wonder if he's trying not to smile I'm in trouble for translating his face wrong I smiled back at his expression hoping to break him He broke my smile instead with his large hand I

Lately the cradle sneers at me balks my barren hut and empties my heart with cries that pain me with remembrance I've often wanted to sell it that dreadful bassinet that heirloom of spite it once held me but it will never hold my own So mad, this cradle drives me it rocks and teeters so that I dive for it desperately and grasp air to catch the precious absent cargo The cradle mocks me making of a vacant womb a twice scorned woman and a forever vast nothing of a torturous life

The wind blew away What I felt there today When I saw in your beautiful eyes What a leap it would take From my former mistake To belong once again in your arms We shared hearts like a drum From a set that has one We reluctantly stepped to the beat You wore green like the land As you held my gold hand I took in with my blues what you are A sky, moon, and sun And the clouds make us one With the stars that do blanket your face You make smiles ignite From a heart filled with fright I believe your adorable grin When the night hits our sky And for sleep we do try I sink into a small sea of joy I am swollen with pride With