Katsek

A┬ánatural cadence about it —
sometimes, the exact width of my patience.
I pencil you in indefinitely.
Let’s not make a racket.
It is always autumn in my heart
no matter what set of eyes meet mine.
We are different kinds of broken – none of us whole
(strength in numbers)
Someday I may tell you
that you are all of my Novembers
and that every November ends up breaking me
shaking down my soul
and eating me alive.
I hold myself together
writing free-verse poems
that don’t even feel free.

M.

Katsek: wicked, cunning, malicious | Inuttitut.

 

 

Letting Letty Go

dreaming awake
stumbling
if I gave you the deed to your life, would you [ab]use it?
all of this effort – all of this time
you were deceived when red meant go
counting all your green, forgetting those in between
don’t let my lantern be your only light

this deed certifies that you are the creator of your own happiness
now tidy your mind, it’s just good housekeeping.

It’s been six years here now, on Color of Outdoors (formerly Travelling Infinity… which curiously enough is now the domain for a travel website, go figure).

I haven’t been inclined to write or share lately, but now that I have my iMac back in working order perhaps I’ll try a little harder.

Hoping your summer is moving along well.

Love,
M.

radio silence

you don’t feel┬áthe night like I do
it’s silk between my fingers
it’s home without the walls
I can be here with this empty space
beside me – inside me
and I am not afraid
in the hours of black
always fight back
you don’t feel the night like I do
never alone in the radio silence.

M.