2022-11-04 #writing/poetry #poem-a-day#seed
not frozen but dancing?
chrysalis in amber dances among stars chrysalis in amber attempts to dance chrysalis in amber tries to dance chrysalis in amber dance with me
chrysalis in amber seeking flight or, when you are in love but it’s not yet appropriate to say so missing definitions abound among uncertain futures. you tell me you’re terrified by uncertainty. I say destabilized. immobilized. we agree it’s too soon. fast. much.
a caterpillar caught in a web trying to grow wings. trying to learn how to learn the meaning of flight from the sky’s perspective.
I think I think too much.
you say you’re in your head too much.
when I visit, the door lingers in the threshold
a question mark following questions.
we share everything except time we’re on different branches belong to different roots child fossils wiggling their toes and clumsy arms caterpillars before metamorphosis chrysalis in amber.
we let the silence sit. each with our own tending to our hearts. I imagine your face through the phone. I picture you picturing my face in the frame I wonder if our feelings can sneak through screens & circuits.
if god made the phone, would we be able to send love instead of misinterpreting texts?
we agree it’s logical plans shouldn’t change because of us. we agree on logic. we are bodies commanded by rationals so why do plans conspire to suicide? why does the cat eat them? why do they unravel absolutely,
it’s not appropriate, we think don’t read into it, we say we’ve built walls around our own doused our words in cold water bland morsels are poor substitutes for discovered fire the glint seen in every moon we witness together, the flash when a drop of sap grows up into a meteor, the warmth in those once-in-a-while moments when you find communion with the world and think to yourself how can life be so amazing, how is this real, how lucky I am to be alive, it can’t get better than this and then remember there’s someone who can someone who can convert light into stardust.
chrysalis in amber tries to dance through screens among stars from https://coda.io/d/Writing-Hub_dYsYg7d1EIu/Portland-Review-Submission_su7a2#_lurCp
we're in the moment when we are
in love but it's not yet appropriate
to say so. it's too soon.
fast.
good.
missing definitions abound among uncertain futures.
you tell me you're terrified by uncertainty. I say
destabilized. immobilized. entrenched in four
feet of concrete (the kind you wrote an essay on,
terrible for the earth and unyielding) a caterpillar caught
in a web trying to grow wings.
trying to learn how to grow wings,
to learn what wings are
the meaning of flight
from the sky's perspective. I think
I think too much. you say you're
in your head too much. When I visit,
the door lingers in the threshold.
we share everything except time
we're on different branches belong to different trunks
moving fossils wiggling their toes and clumsy arms.
caterpillars on the verge of metamorphosis chrysalis in amber
dusty oranges milky brown soil. Freeze Frame. work in progress.
we let the silence sit. each with our own
tending to our hearts. I imagine your
face through the phone. I picture you
picturing my face in the frame I wonder if our
feelings can sneak through screens & circuits.
if god made the phone, would we be able to send
love instead of misinterpreting texts?
we agree it's logical my plans shouldn't
change because of you. we agree
on logic. we are bodies commanded by rationals
so why do my plans conspire to suicide? why
does the cat eat them? why do they unravel
absolutely, rolls of old film twirling.
it's not appropriate, we think
don't read into it, we say
we've built walls for our own
protection doused our words in cold
water to scour seasoning limp, bland morsels are
poor substitutes for invented fire
the kind I see in glimpses every moon we witness together,
the source of light when a drop of sap from a tree grows up and becomes a meteor,
the origin of warmth in those moments of rare wonder when
you find communion with the world and think
to yourself how can life be so amazing,
how is this real, how lucky I am
to be alive, it can't
get better than this
and then remember there's someone
who can someone who can
convert light into stardust.
chrysalis in amber tries to dance through the screens among the stars
we're in the moment when we are in love but it's not yet appropriate to say so. it's too soon. fast. good. missing definitions abound among uncertain futures. you tell me you're terrified by uncertainty. I say destabilized. immobilized. entrenched in four feet of concrete (the kind you wrote an essay on, terrible for the earth and unyielding) a caterpillar caught in a web trying to grow wings. trying to learn how to grow wings, to learn what wings are and the meaning of flight from the sky's perspective. I think I think too much. you say you're in your head too much. I visit. The door lingers in the threshold. we share everything except time we're on different branches belong to different trunks moving fossils wiggling their toes and clumsy arms. caterpillars on the verge of metamorphosis chrysalis in amber dusty oranges milky brown soil. Freeze Frame. work in progress. we let the silence sit. each with our own feelings tending to our own hearts. I imagine your face through the phone. I picture you picturing my face in the frame I wonder if our feelings can sneak through screens & circuits. if god made the phone, would we be able to send love rather than texts? we agree it's logical my plans shouldn't change because of you. we agree on logic. we are bodies commanded by rational so why do my plans conspire to leave? why does the cat eat them? why do they unravel absolutely, refuse reunion, like rolls of old film. it's not appropriate we think don't read into it too much we say we've built walls for our own protection douse our words in cold water to scour seasoning limp, bland morsels are poor substitute for the fire stoking in our inner caves the ones I see in glimpses every moon we witness together, the source of flashes when a drop of sap from a tree grows up to become a meteor with the help of the sun, the origin of warmth in those moments of rare wonder when you find communion with the world and think to yourself how can live be so amazing, how is this real, how lucky I am to be alive, it can't get better than this and then remember there's someone who can someone who converts light into stardust.
chrysalis in amber tries to dance through the screens among the stars
we're in the moment when we are in love but not yet appropriate to say so. it's too soon. fast. good to stop and talk. missing definitions uncertain futures abound. you tell me you're terrified by uncertainty. I say destabilized. immobile. entrenched in four feet of concrete (the kind you wrote an essay about and not the sustainable kind either). a caterpillar caught in a web trying to grow wings. trying to learn how to grow wings, to learn what wings are to learn the meaning of flight the sky's perspective. I think I think too much you say you're in your head too much. I ask to visit. you welcome me in. the door lingers after in the threshold. we share everything except the time we're on different branches belong to different trunks moving fossils wiggling their toes and arms clumsy expanding lungs. caterpillars on the verge of metamorphosis chrysalis in amber dusty oranges milky brown soil Freeze Frame. work in progress. we let the silence sit. each with our own feelings tending to our own hearts. I imagine your face through the phone. I picture you picturing my face in the frame I wonder if our feelings can sneak through screens & circuits. if god made the phone, would we be able to send love rather than texts? we agree it's logical my plans shouldn't change because of you. we agree on logic. we are bodies commanded by rational so why do my plans conspire to leave. why does the cat eat them. why do they unravel absolutely refuse to come together like rolls of old film. it's not appropriate we think don't read into it too much we say we've built walls for our own protection douse our words in cold water to scour seasoning limp, bland morsels are poor substitute for the fire stoking in our inner caves the ones I see in glimpses every moon we witness together, the source of flashes when a drop of sap from a tree grows up to become a meteor with the help of the sun, the origin of warmth in those moments of rare wonder when you find communion with the world and think to yourself how can live be so amazing, how is this real, how lucky I am to be alive, it can't get better than this and then remember there's someone who can someone who converts light into stardust.