Once the snow’s melted
I like to walk on the grass
as much as I can.
The way the ground feels
soft again, cushioning footsteps
like walking on layer cake
is such a hopelessly optimistic feeling.
The grass is still wet and weighed down
by phantom snow,
I almost wish
I was still pining for you.
Writing, at the very least,
would be easier.
Categories: Poetry
It recently occurred to me that almost everyone i know under the age of 34 has a Facebook account. This didn’t strike me as that outrageous, but what did was that I recently started receiving friend requests from relatives who are in their 40’s and 50’s. It felt like having a party in your basement back in high school, and one of your uncles showed up and tried hanging out with you and your friends. The party that had been my life on the web had been crashed, or so it felt. What rose up in me was this feeling of nationalistic pride for the in-society that we, the internet generation, seemed to have developed, and a desire to keep it “pure,” in a sense.
I’m almost positive this is how racism started.
Categories: Personal Log
So she pulled open the curtains, thrusting morning in his face
He closed his eyes harder, clearly at odds with the world
over what time it was.
“See? You’re wrong,” she said, contemplating this new day.
With a voice like gravel, he grumbled out his reply,
“Why? What do you see?”
There was silence as she considered this.
He could tell she was really thinking about her answer,
a weighing of options he thought too heady for this hour.
“Infinity,” she finally said. There was almost giddiness in her voice.
“Through all windows, I see only infinity.”
He merely grunted, and pulled the blankets over his face
But only so she wouldn’t see him smile.
Categories: Poetry
