Between the Wall and a Soft Space

Between the wall and a soft space has been empty and occupied,
And empty, and occupied.
Between the wall and a soft space used to smell like oranges,
Now it tastes like synthetic grapefruits.
Between the wall and a soft space has not grown bigger,
I only feel it more vastly.
Between the wall and a soft space you will find powdery snow,
And ice to skate on.
Between the wall and a soft space is boundless clutter,
Constantly finding a home.
Between the wall and a soft space is a 100 year old Pinchot,
Waiting to be sat under.
Between the wall and a soft space is an invisible wooden block,
Hoping to carve its next destiny.
Between the wall and a soft space invites with caution,
Not to become the wall
Or the soft space.

Comments

Because Ernie Said So

I've gotten a request to update the blog... sorry guys, I'm new to this!! I don't have any new stories to post, but I will dig through the archives and maybe pull out a poem, eh? ::10 minutes later:: Ok, I believe I've found one. It's called Parts For Cento. A cento is a poem that basically collages other lines of poems/stories/whatevers that are either yours, or someone else's. Enjoy. Parts for Cento My face is a map of the world- suffocate me all you need, I won’t breathe but it’s okay I trick myself into thinking that it's going to be different this time it’s always just shades of the same You hear she’s a beautiful girl No more words just the sound of resplendent tongues colliding.

My May Social Media Break

When I was in college I used to intentionally leave my phone in my dorm a few nights a week to go "off grid" and immerse myself with my friends. I refused to buy a smartphone until I graduated, and even then I was reluctant, because "I have a Nook, and an iPod and a computer, why do I need all that in my phone?" I'd say, as I slung my 40lb bag on my shoulder. Katy Bowman, my favorite guru on movement, and movement ecology, speaks to the idea that in "outsourcing" many of the things we do every day, we've lost intentionality, and the movements associated with those intentions. One example would be the invention of backup cameras in cars (except for mine, I'm still rocking that 2005 model). Before, you had to turn your head over your shoulder, look back, and scan the area. Now, you just need to look down at a screen. The movements in our cars are different than they used to be, and perhaps less involved. When I had a separate e-reader, musi...

God on My Tour

God met me at the bus stop. he held my hand, commented on my sweater and said I was good to be prepared. I climbed on the seesaw, the thick metal digging at my thighs, but I carried on for childhood's sake. "I'm just going to look at the view," he said, "stay where I can see you." The tour started moving, making way up the hill. I dismounted the seesaw, imagining it was a horse; a longing pain in my chest. I scooped up my black backpack, trudged through nettle as tall as I am, cursing under my breath for the itches on my ankles and the narrowness of the road. I followed trustingly, like a donkey led down the Grand Canyon. Moans gurgled in my throat, I didn't want to take this journey. One foot pressed on leading the other. one, two, one, two. Ahead a chestnut poked her head over the gray stone. My aches melted, the grunts subsided. I stroked her face, looked in her marble eyes like a traveler sees water in the dessert. I pressed on to Sylvia's grave,...

Cara Writes

Search This Blog