The Wastepaper Basket

Because of some recent traveling, writing a full blog entry was not possible for this week. As I’m settling into the newest job I can promise that soon we will return to the regularly scheduled last-minute, late-night-scrambling, burst-of-inspiration and nick-of-time blog posts. As for now, if you’re a person that comes to this page to hear from a stumbling try-hard, I’ll try to make sure you don’t go away empty handed.

In lieu of today’s post, please allow me to use you all as guinea pigs for an upcoming poetry competition. I’m aiming towards becoming a more interactive blog, and would love feedback on these three works that I’m intending on sending in. Commenting or not, thank you all for your attention, your presence, and your encouragement. Thanks for reading– now onto the poems.

Why I Write It All Down
by Honor Harrison

There are the things I do not like:
Poems that rhyme
Chocolate ice cream
Dry hands
The wormlike flesh of shrimp-
And any other bug-like food.
Watercolor horses
Strawberry fudge
Dead roses
Boys that push each other around on trains
Myself.
And sometimes you.

The things I cannot help but love
I am afraid are too few;
Other days I think
I will never give my life enough attention.
They are too numerous, these things to notice.

The smell of asphalt after heavy rain
Butter spread (even if its killing me)
Chocolate covered cherries
Spring daffodils
Black coffee in a quiet room
Summers with company
Autumn alone
Wandering by myself
Sadness- sadness that is all my own.
Never you
Sometimes myself.

They say you would love the whole world
If you only saw it for the first time.
I know i am a small spirit in a plain box
And maybe I am wasting my breath.
But I think sometimes
In these lists there is a way of
Knowing myself.



Signs

These are the signs and signifiers:
Lakewater laps at the posts of the dry wood dock
In moonlight it caresses the very edge of the shore
With a small wet slap of water there is music-
You are safe, you are safe, you are safe.
It tells me this in the cherrywine summer heat.

and another:
In the desert sits a trailer
In the trailer sits me.
I look out at dustfall mountains
and the wind beats against us both, us all
this dry aggression.
Why are you here, how long will you wander?
It is still unknown if the desert is a question or a challenge.

and last of all–
When i was younger, thinner, paler
Someone set gas to the bonfire
and the fire became a wall
and my feet became running
and the fire ate air, grass, branches, and it crackled
It was only after that the gift was given–
That your heart still beats within you
and your flesh still clings to bone

I strain my eyes with the looking
But the world still has much to bring me.



Vampires

I am growing tired of gorging.
I stay up late and watch
The vampires drain thick wine
And think to myself, if only
To have such an excuse for
Hunger.


(Thanks for reaching the end-- happy Friday everybody)