Heaven on Earth
are you born from the snow
an angel?
or something real
phosphorescence, incandescence
I double over at the sight of you
you call my name
I’ll carry you
to the Heavens
we’ll rise
but I’ve forgotten
my back doesn’t come with wings
so you rise while I
f
a
l
l
all I want is too high
so I lay in the snow
where I found you
This is where my voice is
Socotra coffee house is a sea of color
And when I order my small adeni chai I feel at home in a language I don’t understand
My heels hanging on to a metal seat frame
Typing busy bees, the meaning of indeterminancy, and complaints of capitalism
“And when you cross this divide, you’ll get what we’ve all been denied”
I call my mother because I’ve finally found the right line
Note from the poet:
This is the first poem in the new Written in red series, which are poems focusing on the personal, creative, and political
But I can’t eat
I’m sitting on a couch
The same couch where one message from you once caused my hands to shake has me shaking again
The same couch where I finished my musical
Where I kissed a mistake
Wrote emails and gossiped and found crumbs
My stomach is empty
But I can’t eat
“Once I’m done with people they’re gone”
You’re gone but your name has never come up more
I’m thinking of you hoping to rewrite your name into acceptance
Or suppressing every thought to forget your presence
Maybe if I get rid of all your stuff I’ll feel full
if I go to Blue Llama if I go to Pinball Pete’s maybe I’ll be comfortable in chaos
My stomach is empty but I cannot eat
I can’t watch anything I’ve never seen
I cry when I can’t ge a refund for a cake at coldstone
I sleep with my back aching under LED lights at christmas time
…
When the pit passes
I find a few moments where I’m freed
My stomach is empty and I see through the haze
I finally eat
Before one message sets me off again
I’d be stressed about my grade but it’s too much energy to be stressed so I just accept it.
Union Basement, 1:30PM, 12/8/2023
worry is a tranquilizer. it paralyzes you under your covers, on your phone, in your dreams. it seeps into your bones and dulls your tongue. what’s the point? the two hours are going to pass whether you like it or not. the storm does not wait for you to board up your windows. hunker down and persist, or perish. or maybe you won’t. the hurricane will tickle the roof above your head, a gentle brush with the back of a scarred palm. let this be a warning. you will be ready next time, you think — if there is a next time…
It was just the two of us and a bunch of books. In the Hatcher basement! I was like “where are we going? Are you going to murder me?”
Mosher-Jordan Dining Hall, 12:00PM, 11/28/2023
what if we were to soak up information like a sponge? the logarithms of knowledge are beyond comprehension. even with all of hatcher tucked away, what else lies beyond? the madness of multiplicity: in seeking understanding in one subject, you invariably uncover another… these are the consequences of grasping at infinities we will never see. an expanding edge of space. the horizon, and nothing beyond. who could live with this? a murder would be the easy way out. history defeats itself.
I spent a lot of time crying over question 1, so if anything goes wrong… that’s probably where it started.
Panda Express, 1:00PM, 12/8/2023
the symbiotic relationship between the student and the exam should be carefully examined. there is a certain kind of irony in learning everything but the information: the highlighted color (blue), the study location (panera, but only on mondays), the back of your shoe rubbing against a bouncing heel — if anything, is this not a more finely attuned case of studying? perhaps if you committed to watching espn while transcribing notes you would remember the transcriptions and not the fantasy numbers, or the missed flags, or the post-game interviews. yet this fails as well. a strange phenomenon!
if all else fails — in case of emergency — wipe your tears on question 1 and turn to question 2.
Weather
always be prepared
for it may
snow
rain
hail
sleet
mist
scorch
burn
blow
drizzle
dip
dive
dance
in Michigan
A fresh crop of withered leaves
Emerge from the unbroken snow
Letting the sunlight engulf my cracking face
It is cold, it is warm, I wish I could stay
Being at peace smells like
Sundae cherries, dirt, and soap
Now, waiting here among thoughts of
Empty chairs and amethyst stones and
Bread I baked last Saturday, long ago
Never tasting quite as sweet as
I’ve heard others say
But I’m happy they enjoy it
It’s been a while since the snow
There is a fog covering the
Lights of the apartment buildings
Floating like makeshift stars in the rain
And there is a warmth in the white fairy lights
And the band playing in the market
And the folks that shuffle close together
In and out of Main Street
There is a song tonight
And I am happy to join it
