Safe to Cry

 

Taylor Swift’s “cabin in candlelight” version of her new song “cardigan” carries a good whiff of Lana del Rey influence. I’ve read Taylor say she loves Lana’s lyricism. When I first heard T. Swift’s song earlier this week, I chuckled to myself about the marked influence and thought I wouldn’t be too moved by the song. Taylor trying to do Lana? Nah… Continue reading “Safe to Cry”

How To Feel Better #1: Drink Water

  1. Drink water.

I’m not telling you to drink water instead of something else. Nah, it’s not my place to judge; I went straight to the fridge for a beer after getting home from work this evening. To my dismay, the only beer found there was a half-drunk bottle of boochcraft of my boyfriend’s from, oh, a month ago. (Who saves their unfinished boochcraft?!)
Continue reading “How To Feel Better #1: Drink Water”

for here there is no place that does not see you

Many elements in my microcosmic corner of the universe have aligned such that the past 72 hours of my life have been a splendid pause of poetic experience. A pause because the heat of midwestern July and the lack of paid occupation allow for a comfortable lethargy, a slow motion of a still scene. Continue reading “for here there is no place that does not see you”

Firs

The afternoon of our desire,
the cat napping in the barn,
the carnival tears of merriment and
the mess of dreams in mornings
when things came to mind—this
density of living among the dead kept
flowers in our mouths after
each mean and powerful rain.
You were not like the others—you
stood there facing the wood like
nothing fell around you. There was
the backside of your body,
the haze around your head,
and your terrible calm amid
whatever braved a movement. In
any phase of five minutes you’d
steal the galaxies, take them
under your gaze, and you were
shameless as a voyeur,
ruthless as a pioneer.

–dkp

The Wings

I recall Joni Mitchell once said something about the pressure she felt in youth, a surely mounting pressure, to be great–to make one’s expression dance in unison with one’s soul—, and I say “mounting” because these pressures accumulate with the years. Time tends to carry on like the breath of a sad singer’s song; the phrase finished, the sounds produced, she must then gasp for air in the intervals, if to continue the tune. Continue reading “The Wings”

Revolution

Formidable you
Roaming, falling, burning,
Dying as you live and
Desperate

Stand tall in the frame of
my door
and the blue of your eyes
Fools me
like the space of the skies

Frames vanish
hollows fill
and I’ve never gazed so long into what I cannot touch
and I’ve never held so near what blinded me.

But night falls
like burning stars
and eyes close
like turning doors.

–dkp