Cavernous Place

people and places wide as the world

[cavernousplace]

A Song on Your Birthday

I hate how I always counted on it

Those cards in the mail

I hate how I took it for granted

It’d be there without fail

I hate how stupid tragic

Your sloping cursive reads

I hate the twenty folded neatly

I hate the glossy card

I hate that you’re not here today

And that’s the hardest part.

[cavernousplace]

I sew what you said into everything I wear

I see what you said in red threads everywhere

I sigh what you said and songs meet me there

[cavernousplace]

You’re not something new

You’re a hedge

You’re a maybe

A past you won’t say out loud

A “know me by how I look at you.”

A mystery full of himself

tells me to watch my words.

I never do.

I never do.

I never fucking do.

And you should know so.

Since you know me so well, mystery man.

You’re not something knew

I knew a hundred sacred somethings

Before you were ever born.

I lived and died

In the arms of forty

Forsaken silent lovers

Who wouldn’t say my name

Before you took your first breath.

A thousand mystery men died

With my name unspoken

Desperately in love

With me (they thought)

Before you existed.

You exist because I think of you.

I do not want you.

It eats you alive, mystery man.

[cavernousplace]

I found you out.

It was too easy, you didn’t even squirm.

You wanted to be seen.

Off on a technicality,

I was onto you right before I left town.

An interesting disappointment, I’ll give you that.

But I found you out.

Now I’m giving up the chasing down.

[cavernousplace]

I want to be the type of person who is too good

To waste her time

Dreaming of ways of getting back at you.

Not the girl

Who is too drunk to focus on

Ways of getting back at you.

[cavernousplace]

I would like to remind you

That your love of me is useless

If your love of me is selfish.

I would like to offer you

A love of you that’s useful

A love of you that’s said out loud.

I offer nothing

For an offer of whispers

Of half truths.

I cannot stoop for seconds

And I will not watch my mouth.

[cavernousplace]

A poem for a One Year Anniversary

How does it feel to whisper

One Year and Two Months ago

I made a promise

And to feel the alwaysness of that promise?

Does it feel like canyons?

Like can’t you say it twice?

Does it feel like boxes?

Like hand me down knives?

[cavernousplace]

When the weather turned cold

I turned quiet

turned inward

I watched the sun slide across my face

(the bronze of a good winter sunset)

like it used to

when I felt every crashing wave

upon my very own heart

The beating of my soul against my wishes.

When the weather turned cold

I turned quietly through

the long drives home.

Turned inward into the past.

Turned over old hurts

Hoped them into something

More than broken.

Turned through old books

for want of old energy.

Turned old albums

through old speakers.

Sighed for old friends

when they wanted it.

You’ll be gone by the next year

So much will ache then too.

I feel tender bordering on newness

I feel turning heavy hopes

that hurt to become.

I can’t see

New friends

Laughing

Drunk

Without seeing

Sunsets

Sepia

I feel useless heavy hopes that it would stay.

A turn toward the sun

and these sacred moments

will be turning through

me like a failure

to hold on.

Hold still.

[buttonpoetry]

“My love is gentrification at its best: Once it’s over, I bury every recollection and familiar under high-rises and parking lots till my heart doesn’t recognize the neighborhood.” - Omar Holmon

Carry this album with you on the go!

[mooneyedandglowing]

nightswan

do not be offended. i have eaten better men. + in eating them, found some wisdom. found the universal suckling babe of humanity. of personhood. if anything my feasts are compliments. vital + shivering. like my voice when i hurt + don’t know how to say please. don’t. it is without feeling anyway. without distaste or anger. it is only when distanced from the subject matter can one distill it. i always wonder if things i write will be taken personally. will be seen as an opinion entire or the finally expressed truth. + yet then i always say oh what the hell. what of it. it is an immutable part of me. to turn it all into an artful moment. to twist + twist + pinch some flesh until i find that vague + applicable center that can be of use to someone else. + i have eaten better men for less good lines than when i nibble around at your edges. i’d be so sorry to everyone i’ve carved words from if it wasn’t for as again as piercy said loving it more than being loved. 

[cavernousplace]

I picked a fight to feel like my old self again

I’m sorry for that

I thought about calling again but I didn’t

I’m sorry for that

I read books about setting boundaries

Then binged on beers with friends.

I cried for a moment in the car

When I thought about how many haircuts

It has been since you last saw my face.

I’m sorry for that.

I’m sorry for becoming myself again

This time without you.

I miss you.

I’m sorry for that.

I’m sorry again

But not for leaving.

You will not recognize me when you see me.

[cavernousplace]

I carry what you said-

To hold is not a burden.

The hold of my ship is vacant

of red flags and canary songs and

quilted bits of past.

[cavernousplace]

I am my mother when I:

Windows down

Stand in the sea

Rest sunglasses in my hair

Teach

Rage

Walk barefoot

I am my father when I:

Serve

Stare at the sky

Cook

Cry

Walk at night

Write the truth

I am myself when I

I am myself when I

I am myself when I

[cavernousplace]

An essential sense of place

But a waning sense of self.

[immaculate--heart-deactivated20]

Grassland

.

Get me to the ground

and stand over me there. I

will be your grassland.

[cavernousplace]

I tried to play a song for you

In the other seat of a car you don’t drive now

I tried to let the music say I’m sorry

I’m sorry still

But angry too

In my fever I’ve lost my strength

You ache

I’m lonely

I tried to play a song for you

You said I think I know what you mean

I’ll always be a monster in memories.

I’m not her anymore.

I’m just sore in my lungs.

[cynsyllables]

“Return me a favour by giving yourself one”

- Cynthia Chapman