olaf47: (Default)
I like to stand on top of mountains but
I get scared just looking at skyscrapers.
Maybe man shouldn’t be anywhere he can’t climb.

except—I want to be unearthed
to be pulled from this world
and leave footprints on the moon.
I hear they’re supposed to last
                ten
                           million
                                                 years.
I’ll trace my poems into the ground
and leave my legacy in moon rock.

Or maybe I don’t need to be remembered
by anyone except you.

We’re something like opposites—
your maple syrup skin and my buttermilk thighs
Maybe we’re not meant to be
but I’ve always had a thing for stars
and you’ve always wanted to be one.

Sometimes when I try to talk to you
I get a mouth so full of rain
my eyes turn blue like water reflecting the sky,
                                                      so I stay quiet,
and let you find shapes in my clouds.

We can be a swingset in the backyard
quiet until we are
                                             cackling laughter
                                             legs pumping
                                             always higher
If you time the jump right,
you’ll feel like an astronaut,
                           floating through infinity.
I’ll dance through the sky beside you
and when we emerge on the other side of the sun
you look like a cloud
massive and endless,
but when I try to touch you,
you           slip through my fingers.

Sometimes I forget that the sky can’t be the limit
that it doesn’t have a ceiling
and heaven doesn’t have a floor
and landing among the stars doesn’t mean
you won’t be just as lonely as you were on Earth.

You’re a constellation
something I can’t quite see
unless my eyes trace lines that aren’t there,
connecting stars as though they were summer freckles
instead of
                                lightyears
                                                                                 apart.

You must have been born at the beginning of August,
borne of a meteor shower,
                                      of the Perseids,
of a time when the heavens were tumbling to the earth.

Chicken Little says the sky is falling
but really,
                                             it’s just raining stardust.
olaf47: (lucia)
So I've fallen madly in love with poet Jeffrey McDaniel. Some of his "The Archipelago of Kisses" was used in a Huddy fanfic I was reading (can't even remember which one) and the poem was so good I googled it. I have since been reading his poetry, (friending him on facebook), making icons with the lines i adore, and....writing poetry? I don't know, this just kind of came out. It doesn't really make sense, because it's not exactly anything I necessarily believe or am a part of right now, but this is what came out.

I think I'm supposed to title these )

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olaf47

January 2013

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