inchworm.I have a riddle for you, you said, and I smiled,
twisting my hair in my fingers.
good. I like riddles.
if theres a worm, you said, stuck at the bottom of a thirty-foot well,
and every day he climbs two feet up and
every night he slides one foot down
he gets out of the well on the twenty-ninth day, I said.
I know that one.
I have one for you.
you sat back a little and your lips twitched.
okay, you said, hesitantly.
if theres this relationship, I said,
stuck in a huge rut,
and every day it takes one step forward and
three steps back,
when does it reach the point that I can trust you again?
Hide and Seek
I'm playing hide and seek with God
He hasn't found me yet
He counted to infinity
And didn't break a sweat
If you were me, where would you hide
What tiny sinful nook...
Where's the place, upon this earth,
Where God won't think to look?
First I hid behind a stone
Too big for God to move
He hoisted it above my head
With not a thing to prove
I realized that God could see
Where I would choose to go
The future is an easy thing
For omnipotence to know
So then I thought about my will
It seems that fate is bound
How am I supposed to hide
When I'm already found?
Then I thought about the souls
Of everything on earth
I thought of every bloody death
And every bloody birth
And then I stopped to ask myself
Of all the things to see...
Why would my God spend his time
Seeking hidden me?
For if He can see everything
Why must we play this game?
And why if I refuse to play
Must there be threats of flame?
So here I am, out in the woods
And both of us are bored
So I propose another game
To my immortal Lord
PillarDo not erect a pillar at my grave
so that you may care more for
a stone that bears my name
than for the body that lived it every day.
Do not forget, do not regret.
Do not pile high the earth in needless mounds
so that you may adore
the soil that can be found
in any place, for it be not hallowed ground.
Do not regret, do not forget.
Do not lay flowers where Im laid to rest
so that you may believe your duty is done;
they too will die and have no effect
on the remains of my buried flesh.
It is my soul that desires your efforts.
A Poem...Once I wrote a poem on a small blue posted-note
And it was about the spring
Because that's what the season was
My friends thought it was really cool
And my mother thought it was beautiful
So she hung it on the fridge
For everybody to see
And I felt very special and loved
About a year ago, I wrote a different poem
It was written on a piece of notebook paper
And it was about heaven
Because I thought it was a beautiful thing
My friends said it was fine
And my mother said it was nice
And she put it in the filing cabinet
I felt left out, but that's okay.
About a month or two ago, I wrote another poem
And it was written on the back of an old homework assignment
It was about hell and what I though came after death
Because that's what was on my mind
And My friends though it was weird
And my mother didn't even care
So I shoved it in my trash can
And tried to forget
Today I wrote a poem
It was on a crumpled up piece of paper
And it was about my final goodbyes
Because that's what it was really al