Apart (from me)

featured in the poetry forum July 30, 2018  :: 0 comments

I know no one
and no one really knows me
and in that I am free –

I want you to know me
but you don’t know me
and in that I am trapped –

shifting back and forth
back and forth on this see-saw
across time, apart
never really making progress –

my world and theirs
my world always so different from theirs
them me
them me –

now tell me, why do you want to be free?

editors note:

I see; we seek the comfort of captivity, when it’s alone to be free. – mh clay

Us, years later

featured in the poetry forum March 19, 2018  :: 0 comments

Up the broken steps,
between the vodka and the tears,
crying washed out the truths.
We got lost somewhere between
the past and the present.

Somewhere between when those
clear tells fell and the crystal vodka
turned to red blood,
was the trust you needed,
was the truth I wanted.

editors note:

Sometimes it takes years to break that bottle which blocks the way between trust and truth. (We welcome Kimberly to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Paper Memory

featured in the poetry forum July 17, 2017  :: 0 comments

When the colors swirl on a moment
preserving a thought, marking a place in time
a piece of life, that freedom in form
caught on one piece of paper
edited to contrast
an image, color, creating a perfect moment then
a perfect thing now
forever captured for me to hold onto
each paper aligns with one concrete memory
ageless and preserved
how the colors appear and fill in this moment
of my mind, my eyes, transient human reality
embossed, glossed, matted into something tangible
even while not truly understanding how that works
I am in awe of the mystery of it
mysterious proof of life
proof in my hand / proof I can hold
that then I lived.

editors note:

Why we clamor to be in the Book of Life. – mh clay

Virginia’s Liminality and Mine

featured in the poetry forum January 31, 2017  :: 0 comments

We call this liminality,
this space that it is possible to stay in too long
this space that it is possible to never come out of.
But there was a before and there will be an after
Now the clamped hold, the compression, middle
pressure
we call this transition, in transition
we change
holding until/holding on
until the time when we run out of breath
until we turn blue
until we rise to the surface or sink down
like a drowning
fear can be a good motivator
be it of life or of death
Liminality is
Blue
I have decided to leave (live)
to go but not to let go.
I hold on, waiting for the next thing
hoping it will come and when it does
I fool myself into thinking I knew it would all the time,
when the truth is,
I had no idea
After all, it doesn’t always come for everyone,
isn’t that right Virginia?

editors note:

Those in-between blues; best sung when the “next thing” comes along. – mh clay