\

Reconciliation

Last day.
Ivory curtains.
Blurry. Cyan.
Rotation.
Blurry.

 

Advertisements

I Am a Home pt.2

I am a planet,

you are a traveler,

seeking home.

Maybe a planet can orbit at ease,

while a traveler plays.

Maybe a planet can be a traveler,

a traveler a planet.

Maybe travelers can find a home,

be a home.

You are a planet,

I am a traveler,

seeking home.

Maybe a traveler can handle

when a planet fissures and quakes.

Maybe a planet can handle

when a traveler needs space.

We are planets,

we are travellers.

Carefully,

seeking home.

I Am a Home.

I am a planet,

you are a traveler,

seeking home.

I have clean water,

green trees.

You evaluate conditions.

Maybe you’ll find cleaner waters,

greener trees.

elsewhere.

So you travel.

Cautiously,

seeking home.

I am a planet.

I want to be your home.

But then I don’t.

Because don’t feel like enough

when you assess and weigh.

You are a traveler,

and travelers never find home.

Put It Down.

I’d like to show you my reservations.

Check the cupboard, in the usual place.

Reservations about reservations,

and a reserved nature.

Depleting reserves and abstracting salvation.

Complications and condensation on my favourite glass.

It’s a bit slippery and I’m not sure how to handle it.

Put it down right now.

Kirstin Turnbull_Put It Down_$320

I Have a Voice

I am a lake without a choice.
Matter thrown inside sinks out of sight and mind,
lost in the reservoir– decomposses.
Becoming part of the waters, blending with foreign archaic sediment.

But waters recede,
Sediment takes form.

I see clearly the solid refuse.
I am not a lake, I have a voice,
and sound waves distort reflections of you.

I have mass.

Enough to throw down like a hammer and shatter offshore rubble.
Fossils remain like battle scars that tattoo my solid, solid form.

I am not a lake, my body another kind.
I am a warrior clad in titanium, echoing cries that insist victory.
Ablaze with sun that dries spittle from existence.

Disconnect

I’m dancing in dust and space and rhyme.

Give me a moment to collect myself.

Wait no.

Trees are gold and the streets rain silver and sun.

I’m seeing you and you’re seeing me and we see everyone.

Hold your hair and heart and bump noses because it’s not too close.

Wake up, examine self, shower.

Where are my socks.

Sitting.

what

Maybe.

Maybe

Maybe.

But…

Yeah, I think he was fair.

He acted reasonably.

I definitely support you.

I understand you.

But maybe…

Did you explain?

Can you hear me?