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Posts Tagged ‘loneliness’

But It’s So Quiet, Not Even an Echo

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on July 18, 2015| 1 Comment »

morning alone

my heart a yodeler

hoping to hear

your heart

yodeling back

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There Was Hope in the Bottom, They Say

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on March 5, 2015| 5 Comments »

The scholars argue if it were a box or a jar.
No matter. She opened it, Pandora.
It was a gift, and she treated
it as such. And what does it matter
how quickly they spread, all the evils and ills
the gods gave to humanity? The point is
they spread. All Pandora did was lift the lid.
I read today that a red blood cell
can make a full circuit of the human body
in less than 20 seconds. Of course I wanted
to give it a name, that theoretic cell.
Like loneliness. I could imagine it rushing redly
through every part of my body, infusing all tissue
with its terrible news. You’re alone,
it says, you’re alone, you’re alone.
In a minute, I’ve heard it enough
to believe it, though other red cells
sing a different tune. Sometimes
in the face of loneliness, all other
songs turn to sand. I’m lonely,
I say to my lonely reflection,
and who will hold my hand?
And anger appears from behind
the vase. And pride shows up
beside the door. There is a box
somewhere inside me. I don’t remember
opening it, but the lid is long since gone.
I, too, was gifted with curiosity.
You were a gift, I say to anger,
you were a gift, I say to pride.
But I am too tired to believe it.
I watch myself as if my life is a movie,
watch the loneliness make its rounds inside.

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I Pushed Him Away

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 11, 2014| 4 Comments »

I pushed him away
until the loneliness in me
recognized the loneliness

in him, two awkward birds
still afraid of sky

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If You Are Lonely

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on October 6, 2013| 2 Comments »

 

 

 

In early October, after the frost,

but before the long white weight of snow,

 

wade waist-deep in the raspberry thicket,

when the air is cold and the sun is low

 

and there is yet gold on the mesa’s hills,

all glitter and tremble and shine, and hiding

 

beneath the still green leaves are swollen red berries,

few enough that to find one feels like earning a prize,

 

but abundant enough to lure you deeper in,

despite the brambles, the snags on your sweater,

 

the scratches into your hands. There is no way

to be anywhere but here. The day moves no faster

 

than shadows can grow and hunger is a thing

that can be sated. The light meets you

 

exactly where you are and gives itself to you

and asks nothing in return.

 

 

 

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Walking on the Platte with Rachel

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on November 11, 2012| 3 Comments »

This is what loneliness is like.
You spotted it on the side of the path,
scuttling under November’s dead grass.
What is that? you said.
It was small. Primitive.
Scorpion-like. A gray abdomen
and albino head, and ten segmented
albino legs, or were there really ten?
It moved so fast we could not count.
What is that? I said, in agreement
with you, knowing I could not identify
the thing. And why is it chasing me?
I said, half laughing, half terrified.
It can be so small, the things that scare us.
How I edged away to avoid the unknown.
How we laughed as I nearly sprinted away from the thing.
It kept running after me until at last it stopped,
reared up on its back legs and opened
its four tiny ruby tipped pincers.
How we gasped in, what, disgust?
Amazement? Fear laced with pleasure
in the newness of the thing?
The whole rest of our walk, it still followed
me in my mind. I thought of you
there in a town that is eating you alive.
I thought of love and how after forty years
we still don’t know what it means.
I thought of our shadows, how they
layered on top of each other against the walk
when we sat in the weak sun beside the dead roses.
I thought of how it lunged for my shadow,
that thing. How ugly it was. How I longed
to name it. Later, you called to tell me
it was a camel spider, not a spider
at all but a solpugid. Isn’t is strange
how we misname the things that frighten us
the most? You said that the small creatures
favor the dark, and they’re known for following
people to hide in their shadow. It was not
chasing me, but wanted reprieve from the light.
This is what loneliness is like. The camel spiders
seldom bite humans, you read, and if they do, they have
no venom. But still people are afraid.
Sometimes we surrender our loneliness
too quickly. I don’t know what I am saying.
I’m saying that they can be difficult, these days.

check out this crazy critter here: http://www.badspiderbites.com/camel-spider/

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Everywhere

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on September 8, 2012| 2 Comments »

My friend and I
stand in the middle
of Franklin street.
We face each other
in moonless dim.
We speak of loneliness
while all around,
and not by accident,
though not out of sweetness,
all around us
we are touched by silence.

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