Axiom Series

[Axiom]: noun / ax·i·om / A proposition that is assumed without proof for the sake of studying the consequences that follow from it [Series]: noun / se·ries / A number of things or events that are arranged or happen one after the other.

[axiomseries]

They Tell Me This Gets Easier With Time

It’s 4:00 where you are.

By now, you’re probably getting ready

To leave in your car or you’re waking up

From a nap. I used to be there, then,

Laying in your sheets or reading in your chair

Quietly. Watching you rest.

Waking you up was my favorite thing,

Coming in to nestle you close and hold you

Deeply when you couldn’t protest.

I could sing around you

And every small thing you did

Was never small to me.

It’s 4:00 now and staying away from you

Would make my life easier,

But reaching out is all I think about.

I read and run and ramble,

I kiss pretty and kind boys,

But none of it is as exciting as watching you rest.

I control so much of my life,

But I can’t control my dreams

And you’re the star of each and every one.

I’m somewhere running the tapes in the back,

Wishing each reel was real,

Or at least that I smoked

So I could burn some damn holes in it.

When it’s 10:00, everything is a bit more dull.

My life, like the reel, passes by in clips,

Click, a breakfast, click, another class.

I talk to a new boy and my heart flutters,

But even after long walks and talks

It remains closed, steadfast.

I shut the doors when my dream life,

One where I watched you sleep every night

Was no longer possible.

I control so much of my life,

But I can’t control my dreams

And this one was never small to me.

[axiomseries]

Look Forward

Look forward on the metro

See the sides blurred fast in motion

Feel yourself moving through space

You are here

A traveler in a train car

A dot under the city

Rocking slow on the tracks

Gently side to side

Remember that you 

Are shooting forward

To a new destination

Under the cityscapes

Under the people’s fates

Sit and feel it all

You have arrived

[axiomseries]

Revisionist

In my mind, your history

Is a crumpled ball of papers

That I mold into new

Hide the parts where you were hurt

Fold errors, worn corners

Rework all that went eschew

Do you want this, do you?

  Please forgive me

The child of a newspaper family

I revise by nature

My work is free

Though never submitted, I'll edit your past

Write headlines, a new hook

All for me to read

Is this what you really need?

  Each time I rewrite

I cast you in a new light

1000 different versions

Yet none of them feel right

Only you could tell me

This is a conversation I flee

I don't picture myself a reporter

Camera shy, I am pale

I wish I was brave enough

To get your version of the tale

[axiomseries]

Dressing Room

Hold me up for size

See if my shattered palms

Fit in your Pablo Picasso tries

  Picture this, I match, I bend

A spitting image of

Someone who will mend

  Your bones. I am a starfish,

Scaled and hollowed out

Name me your deepest wish

  I'll cross carve it inside

Please mam you're wounded

It's okay, I tried

  When I see you I'm whole

Now alone, I'm a shell

And to you I roll

[axiomseries]

Untitled

Pink lipsticks and thick mascara

I ask mom how to put on makeup

She says she can't teach me

I say you wear it every day

She brings me to the mall

Este Lauder ladies paint me pretty

  Cotton wads and plastic wrapping

I ask mom how to use tampons

She says she can't teach me

I say you've used these for years

She hands me the package

The instructions say to relax

  First dates and tender messages

I ask mom how to be in love

She says she can't teach me

I say you've loved me every day

She leaves, I go, you arrive

There is no difference, really

[axiomseries]

Spring Broadcast

Knee-deep in wilted whispers,

I sent you transmissions.

Amidst others' blossoming beams,

My muscles radiate static caresses,

Still rooted in past transmissions.

 Broadcasting live tonight is

Your host, the promise of tomorrow

And our guest today, and tomorrow

And the next day is

Untarnished youthful vigor

In bloom. Testing, 1, 2, 3,

Listeners, welcome to our scaffoled series

Featuring quick quips and bated breath.

 I cast out all my signals, and yet,

My base threatens to faulter,

A stone hinged foundation

Others' roots have cracked.

My roots are blocked as they

Search for yours.

  Can yo-          -er us out the-

Just on-       -inute please

  -s we-

       -oot our pr-

             -ormally happe-

Our apo-   -ies

There is a static signal an-

Our station has determined we are

Unable to transmit tonight's broadcast

Keep waiting just a little longer

And please, be sure to

Tune in next week

[axiomseries]

New Orleans, Louisiana 

[axiomseries]

عيوني جديدة

اعيش لرحل و لاستكشاف و لتغيير 

ولكن عندما انا معك الدنيا صغيرة

و المحيط غير واضحة و الالوان بسيط

استطع ان اركز عن انت فقط، حياتي

و ليس واحد شيء في كل العلم 

التي لا احبها مع عيوني جديدة

معك الاشخاص و الامكان و الافكار 

كلهم اجزاء مهمة و خاصة من الدنيا

و انا امهم من نفسني في الماضي

لاول مرة في حياتي لا اريد ان اجري 

بعد من كل اشياء الى مكان اخر

و اذا سارحل او ساستكشف او ساغير 

اريد ان افعل كل اشياء معك، سببي 

[axiomseries]

The Girl Who Traveled

This girl, blessed, is lucky To miss so much. She walks through the market (It is older than you). Antiques tinkle like tears. She runs her hands on the beads. Thoughts of a past life Sparkle and fade, Sparkle and fade. Today is brought to you by Heat waves.

I haven’t told you She radiates in the morning, But you were gone that night. Your imprints mark the path Trailing from her old bed (Grandma’s quilt in tact). That bed may as well be gone, Now 13 countries away, Its sheets of yesterday. Corridors are all who Call now.

Assault in the ruins, Foreign hands grab her. Big skies see it all, the only witness. Trust comes slower to Taxis and tequila. Those hands blend with yours. She no longer sees straight (Not now or ever). Compasses, telescopes, Objects explorers once used Can only distract for So long.

Yet she stands in the center Of the busy market, busy morning With an instant coffee pick me up. She runs her hands on the beads. Here, here, she is here. And you told her She, blessed, is lucky to miss That much.

[axiomseries]

To Claim

We took a piece of high tide

Roaring, collashing, and gliding into seams

Tucked it into the burrow of 

This sand and saved it to dampen

Our own dreams. Though I am

Sorry, it is Human Nature to claim

The finest trophies of earth

As our own

[axiomseries]

Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque

Muscat, Oman

[axiomseries]

To My Dear Friend

Dear friend of gentle grain,

Crying in the field you sow,

Whispering secrets to wanderers.

For you, I have a battle cry

Of sugar free Tuesday's

And ditching men who

Can't stand up alone.

I beg you, get out of the gutter

Even though he pushed you in.

You may be dirty, but grease

Helps us maneuver, trust me.

Dear friend of two-lipped tulips,

More than anything, I wish

My love could be enough

For when he doesn't message

After three whole weeks,

For when he drives you into town

And drops you off, alone,

For when you say you went to see him

Because you needed it. I need you

To be a strong woman

For you and for me,

To be my role model

And my partner in crime,

To make me feel like it's not selfish

To want better for you and for me.

Dear friend of ray shine beams,

To me, you will never be

The other woman.

No, you are my goddess

And even when you don't know it

You are your own, too.

[axiomseries]

For Grandpa

Inky and black, my hands

Are coated in the words

That could have been yours

Written and laid out, meticulously

Walking through my schoolyard halls

I pass out copies of the newspaper

To my weasily high school friends

I think, you did this for a whole town

If anyone visits Warren, Minnesota

They will see your rusted signs hanging

The streets you took photographs of

The house you slept in two months ago

The family you built there

The pieces of E. Neil Mattson

Established 1926

Yet thriving in my very blood

Each mile I run

Each hand I hold

Each word I write

A legend of the man who was

I am proud to be a Mattson

[axiomseries]

A Nest For Another Day

Scrounging and collecting, I have picked up

Paper shapes and willowed blossoms and rusted frames,

All to build myself a good nest. A fine nest.

I keep it warm at night and purge it of

Bad smells and things that are rotten.

I take things out. I sort things. I tidy things.

When providing, I know I lack a primal instinct to hunt

But my gathering skills, sharp, have filled this nest.

This room is something to be proud of.

  This is the place where you first fell,

Where we drank cold beers, where I made you dance.

This is the place that tells me each morning,

With its steady walls and carefully placed decor,

That things haven't changed all that much,

Even when I let the stripped wall banner hang

Down on one side, limp, for a week.

A nail fell to the ground, and it may take a few days

Before I'm ready to bring out the toolkit.

  In the past, people gathered and built their nest

On their own, using binding agents they rounded up.

There were no construction companies or lifting cranes,

No leases or signed agreements or credit limits.

No, it was a world where you built your nest

With the vigor you chose, and you could stay housed in it

Until your end of days, or scatter with a flurry of leaves.

Your two hands, calloused, built your nest,

And they would bleed to protect it.

  Things are different when your lease ends in May.

You overlook the dents in the wall behind the table,

You rest your clothes in a plastic bin, stacked on another plastic bin,

You let the stripped wall banner hang.

Yet on your walks home, a long path etched carefully

Into the side of the road, you see a small blossom or

You smell fresh lavender. You pluck and you bring it home

To gather and arrange and brighten a small corner of

This room, your nest for another day.