40 MORNINGS: A SERIES, PART TWO

I bought a waterproof notepad in 2012 and hung it on my shower wall. For the next 40 days, I wrote a new poem every morning when I showered. Those 40 poems can be found HERE. In the fall of 2013, I wrote another 40 poems in the shower.

No. Forty-One

I want your love
to be the kind of love
that kills me.

If you move on
before I move on,
I won’t last
through the night.

No. Forty-Two

I wish not
to be the pail
in its well,
but rather
the bucket
a child wears
on its head.
I wish not
to conform.

No. Forty-Three

In your eyes, I see
the water I tread
as a boy.

In your eyes, I see
calm foreign shores
I have not walked.

In your eyes, I see
myself.

In your eyes, I see
my whole life.

No. Forty-Four

If I believe
in reincarnation,
can I be a cat?
Because my curiosity
is killing me,
& eight of my lives
have already left me.

No. Forty-Five

The knocking
in my chest
was warmed
by your light.
Just close your eyes
for a while, knocking,
& find peace
in the darkness.
Please…

No. Forty-Six

When my hand
calls out to your skin
in the blackness
of night,
just know
the gesture
is a muscle memory
I am desperately
trying to forget.

No. Forty-Seven

What is my heart
but a tall candle
with a slow
burning wick?

No. Forty-Eight

No matter
what I say,
nothing has changed.
No matter
how far I go,
I still feel caged.

No. Forty-Nine

My eyes
are like peppermints,
& my dreams
are a bitch.

I am so tired.

No. Fifty

I could write
every word I know
& still would not
be able to capture
your eyes,
your hair,
or your skin.

No. Fifty-One

Even when
I have nothing to say,
look into my eyes:
They’ll tell you
everything.

No. Fifty-Two

I grabbed you,
but then I let go.

You see,
I had to,
because there’s more
than you to know.

No. Fifty-Three

I wanted to drive
along those black
backroads until,
underneath a new
sky of stars,
I had mapped out
your entire body.

No. Fifty-Four

I was 10 years old
& young enough
to think I knew
everything.

But then
I learned I knew
nothing.

No. Fifty-Five

There is never
a good time
for bad news.
But I knew
our timing was bad,
so I said,
“Goodbye.”

No. Fifty-Six

I’ve seen the waves
from Michigan,
& I’ve seen the tide
of the Gulf,
but the things
I haven’t seen
are what make me
whole.

No. Fifty-Seven

Only so much
can be said
about one person,
but somehow
I still find
the words
& dedicate them
to you.

No. Fifty-Eight

There is a sickness
in the mornings
when I awake
from such a peace,
but when I stop
waking up is when
I’ll be pleading
just to breathe.

No. Fifty-Nine

I want to
seduce ideas.

I want to
make love
to thoughts.

I want to
wake
next to creativity.

No. Sixty

I try not to see
with my heart.

It’s so wrapped up
in everything I am.

I don’t trust it.

No. Sixty-One

I never feel
more alone
than with a pen.

But that’s okay.
Now my words
can keep
you company.

No. Sixty-Two

This blood
I’m bleeding out
makes me
feel empty.

When I
am hollowed out,
what will be
within me?

No. Sixty-Three

When you fall
from the tree
you’ve been
hanging on,
your new life
begins with an ending.

Never look back
through the wind.

No. Sixty-Four

I stood on a trunk
for the better part
of a day,
wishing the gone tree
would grow back
& capture me—
wishing
I could sway.

No. Sixty-Five

My head
holds the hours
& you
keep the minutes.

I shout,
“You’re back,”
then wonder,
“Where are you going?”

No. Sixty-Six

I am ready
for a new cause
of the flowing
in my veins.

I am ready
to be washed away
& carried in
with the highest tide.

No. Sixty-Seven

I
haven’t found myself yet,

so I
probably
shouldn’t be looking
for you.

No. Sixty-Eight

The trees
in autumn
see the leaves
they hold
in their highest beauty,
& then
they are forced
to let go.

I understand
this sadness.

No. Sixty-Nine

I try to
learn something new
every day,
but
I keep thinking
about the
terrible things
I already know.

No. Seventy

Once
I have moved away,
how high
must I reach
& how far
must I go
to remember
where I’ve been?

No. Seventy-One

I lost
my appetite,
& I hate
the aftertaste,
but still I choke
down every
thought of you.

No. Seventy-Two

You may spend years
in a clover patch
& never find one
with four leaves,

but there are many
patches of clover
& in them
lies your luck.

No. Seventy-Three

The distance
between your eyes
& mine
has never
been greater,
& I can’t wait
to see you.

No. Seventy-Four

My flame finds
the gentle breeze
unwelcomed.
It doesn’t want
to dance.
My burning
is a constant one.

No. Seventy-Five

I only wanted
the last time
I ever saw you
to be
the last time
I ever saw you.

No. Seventy-Six

I’ve got the strength
I need
to keep you
away from me,
but I’m no good
at fighting
when I’m asleep.

No. Seventy-Seven

If you can taste
the wine
when I kiss you,
don’t kiss me back.

No. Seventy-Eight

If only
this pencil
could write
you off.

No. Seventy-Nine

I should take
this blank page,
draw your eyes,

& throw
them away

No. Eighty

My last drink
is in the sink
& the room won’t stop spinning.

It knows
I want to be
spinning round
with you.

August 29 – October 10, 2013

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One thought on “40 MORNINGS: A SERIES, PART TWO

  1. Pingback: TL Kirk

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