Monday, April 30, 2018

sometimes

the things i don’t tell
you could fill a room
with questions
but they don’t.
instead our house is
filled with silence
as i waste my time
playing video games,
watching television,
reading poetry,
feeling guilty
about not making art—
hoping to find my voice

the things i don’t tell
you haunt our nights
as we fall asleep
to the sound of our breathing,
the crumple of sheets
as we turn our bodies
over and over

sometimes facing each other
sometimes side by side
sometimes quietly embraced.

Sunday, April 29, 2018

excavation

they came looking for roots
tendril of family names
branching out into the striated past

constant rhizomatic search
you dig and
        you dig and you
dig deep into the bone of history

the spade glances off something hard
and resolute, all that force returns
to the unsteadied hand
you scrape away the top layer of dirt
and what is revealed is everything
you did not know

the past is a hidden country,
let’s say, the past hides
facts about our families:
this one married their niece,
that one abandoned their post,
this one was an angry drunk,
that one spent the family fortune,
this one died by lightning,
that one drowned in the river
under mysterious circumstances.

all of them had reasons
too complicated to write down—
the answers buried deeper
than you dare to dig.

Saturday, April 28, 2018

and so the question

and so the question:

is there any way

you could let me know

when the moment is right

and you no longer so broken?

Friday, April 27, 2018

concert

i wanted to tell you
you played beautifully
tonight. as we gathered
in the living room
with friends and family.
we sang the old songs
with smiles and with tears
all our voices blended—
a deep sounding

we find the edges
of tradition, where
yesterday and the moment
meet. no need
to put it on the page

just let it find a home
in voices as they rejoice
in the stories of all of us,
the shared adventures of failure
and triumph, the ways we left
the motherland
an echo in every word.

Thursday, April 26, 2018

the old songs

recovering the songs
is never easy

one generation
stops listening

one generation
stops singing

the words are emptied
and full of noise

they become a jumble
of vowels

a string of consonants—
nonsensical rhymes

is it possible to know
what the song is about

when we have no idea
what the words mean

find someone
who knows the old songs