Original: Checklist (2010)

Checklist

I’m gonna kill the giant and win the war.

Gonna find the treasure I’m looking for.

And I’ll be faster than the boys because I want it more.

What else is there in store…?

I’m gonna be an explorer,

Riding all seven seas –

I don’t need to tame them or own them,

Just so long as I’ve known them.

Let ocean breeze bloom

In my taste buds

And sweep its scent across my face,

Stinging my cheeks with life like a sunrise.

Before uncharted skies,

I’ll redraw all the maps

Of all they think there is to see

As new worlds open their doors,

Their shores, and horizons to me.

I’ll drive headlong into the storm

Without fear, only free.

I’ll be smarter than my teachers,

The ones who live in cursive lines,

Who think inside times-table boxes,

Locked into the thought

That there’s just one way to be and know and see.

I’ll be a tongue-stuck-out Einstein,

Never caring at the groans, sighs

And rolling eyes

That meet my endless “Whys?”

‘Cause living is learning,

And there’s too little of one

And too much of the other

To ever waste a moment not asking.

I’m gonna build my own wings to go flying,

And I’ll gladly rise too high.

And when my wings start to melt

And I start to fall,

You won’t hear me sighing,

‘Cause I’d rather regret “too far” than “not yet.”

Just you wait,

Someday I’ll show you

All I’ve done and I’ve won,

And no denying –

I’m gonna be immortal…

…Or die trying.

Original: I Spoke to Her (2012)

I Spoke to Her

 

I spoke to her with the sound of

Bashful grass-blades

Sidling from the earth

And lifting their chloroplasts

To the light.

She replied with the tone

Of hoarfrost,

That leaves traces of its silver breath

On every blade

That hears.

Original: Internal Crises Set to Poetry (2013)

Internal Crises Set to Poetry

There’s something therapeutic

About touching the unknowable

Inside yourself

And giving it a name,

Inviting it to warm its hands

By your heart

Instead of pretending

You can’t hear it

Whispering “other!” at you

As it clouds your identity

Like a cataract.

No – bleed it like ink

Onto a page made

To receive your stranger.

Let it be more than a silhouette;

Transpose it to words

You can fold into origami sparrows

And give them breath

On which to fly.