Poem 158

bedside

I want to pull it out of you

the parts inside that make you sick

the ever-ache that makes you sick

the part of you that makes you sick

and I know it will be messy

but I want it all           out

every piece, in a slender string

I am certain, in taking the corner

it will come to me          a ribbon,

a folding coil… be gone

I want it all       out

the part of you that makes you sick

but it is your body

with its teeth                 turned inside

out! The parts of you that are crooked

and strange, the parts that would harm

I’d pull them out with my cleanest hands

and heal you whole

and heal your soul.

—ECW

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Poem 55

It has been brought to my attention that people are actually looking at the blog. Thanks guys. I hate blogging as much as you hate reading crappy blogs, so thanks for sticking around… On a more important note there is one person I’m flattered to say printed out my poem and showed it at a very important event that I could not attend… so thank you!! I hope I can meet you someday!!

This one’s for Grammy!!

upon forgetting all salutations, there is this
lacking nothing knowing nothing; i lack and know my heart.
be still flicking match-fingers and well worn toe-less shoes
it was the bruise that lasted eternal not the fall… after all…
we fall in love with the past over and over before we realize
seasons have matured…

cured. of all redemption, the rise

and fall of sunlight is finally free to symbolize nothing but itself.
two score before my parents wed my father held the branches of three
trees: apricot, peach, loquat; their sapping cylinders fresh-leaking of life,
with his knife bore them holes together, and bound them with left-over string.

they grew entangled, like the knots of unkept ambition, their fruition
was never compromised by their scars. Here we are. Walking around
like we might be some fallen trees, but you and i know the best part about
broken branches: they must grow back.
–ECW

Poem 55 Revised Poem 55 Edited