Memory of lovely bruises

I had travelled the secrets of her surface
She knows this
Like sunrise
Her eyes fill with sunlight
Alabaster skin is marred with bruises
She saw this morning and she remembered
That into the silence of the night
There were stars where our bodies intertwined
Where shifting innocence rushed out
There was a whisper of Amen, she exhaled
She had looked up to the heavens in prayer
Eyes wide and set alight
Hands clenched with an anaconda grip
Her voice had sung octaves
She remembers
That like a dam breaking loose, like gushing rivers
Her blood, her soul, her essence filled my mouth
Yes she definitely remembers
That I had suckled, that I took pale skin between my teeth
That I had given her love and passion
That I had given her
love bites

(Author’s Note: This poem actually comes from my poem “Love Bites”, which I have not posted here yet, written backwards as well as slightly modified. This is just me trying to fulfill the last challenge of NaPoWriMo [http://www.napowrimo.net/] which is to write a poem backwards. Not really sure if I did it right but it was kind of fun to revisit an old poem of mine. Cheers to the end of National Poetry Month! And may we celebrate poetry everyday of our lives)

An Artist’s Job

Before I paint, I like to hold the stick between my lips and into my mouth
As if it were a cigarette
And I inhale the smell of paint
It is alive, it is addicting
And it is telling me to make something beautiful
And so I do

Before I write, I like to hold the pen’s tip against my skin
As if it were a syringe
Pretending to suck my blood in and mix it with ink
I can feel the red blood cells rushing to meet the pen
It makes me feel alive
And it is telling me to make something beautiful
And so I do

Before I take a photo, I like to just stare into the viewfinder
As if it were a telescope
And I look for the most intricate details of my subject, like looking at stars
I want to see all of its starlight before I capture it
It is telling me to make something beautiful
And so I do

Before I make love to you, I will hold you close to me
As if you were a blanket— No
Not as if you were a blanket, or a syringe or anything
I will hold you close to me as you are
You smell wonderful
There is no pretending here, the blood cells rush to everywhere our skin touches
I have always seen your starlight
And I don’t need to make you beautiful
Just like I never made my paintings or my writing or my photographs beautiful
They are beautiful for the very reason that they exist
And so are you
And so no one tells me to make something beautiful
Because an artist’s job is to uncover everything that is beautiful
And so I do

Morning brings another day

If you think about it, sunrise really isn’t about the sun rising
Scientifically, that would be pretty wrong
No, it’s more about the Earth spinning
Spinning on its own axis
We can’t really blame the Earth for wanting to see everything around it all the time
The universe it inhabits is beautiful
We see that
We see the sun rise, and the sun set
We see the opacity of the sky change as the moon blocks the sun
And it begins to show the stars
This is day and night
Always the same process

But not for us
Not for the people here on the ground
Sunrise and sunset means beginning and ending of a day here
“The sun will rise again”, they’ll tell you
It is the same sun, but never the same day
Who you were yesterday, changed today
Your hair has grown a millimeter, your nails as well
You see stars differently

I used to raise my hand in kindergarten when the teacher asked a question
And when they called my name, I would loudly say “I don’t know!”
It’s a running joke here in my family
But why do we keep telling it?
I am not that person anymore
No I didn’t run from it
I raised my hand in the air and passed that memory unto the sun
So that it may set with it, knowing that the next time it rises it will no longer be the same
I am not that person anymore
I no longer walk this Earth ignorant and uninformed
I am no longer a child either

But I am no longer who I was yesterday either
I am no longer the boy that had his favorite bacon and eggs breakfast
No longer the boy who was less informed
No longer the boy that saw that sun rise
That sun has already set hasn’t it? Today is a new day

It’s my belief that we are who we are at that exact moment
And maybe we will never be the same again and maybe we will
Maybe the stars will never be as beautiful and maybe it still will
The universe is only what it is at an exact moment
The tree of life only grows till death
It rises up and then sets itself down when it is over

The sun has risen and set today
Tomorrow I will rise with the sun
And I will no longer be the same
I will be better

The self-danger in self-doubt

I’m scared because sometimes I have so much to say
But not nearly enough that will hear
or listen
I’m scared because sometimes I have so much to show
but no stage to stand on
and no audience
I am scared that sometimes to get attention there is a pay
What is the cost? Is it my money? My car?
My labor? My words? My soul?
I’m scared because what if I don’t have enough to give
What if I can’t pay?

– – –

I’m scared because of how much I seem to be willing to sacrifice
To be heard by people that will always be strangers to me
I’m scared because of how much I chose to blind myself
to the crowd that was always beside me