marble journal

well, here we are my friends, into another season
the season you choose inside that amazing mind you were gifted
over some earthworm who must content himself
with getting washed from his hole come spring
I do not own this thought
it is one I pass on to my children
vessels safeguarding future knowledge trapped inside present time
a new morning over coffee, I’m caught in a precious time warp
staring at me, before it gets stowed into his school backpack
a loaded composition notebook–sentinel of coagulated educational emotion
this particular marbled gem of bound cyan lines is bursting at its stitching
so bloated, it appears yanked from the Dead Sea then baked on some remote Mayan steppe
I wonder about my son’s limitless thoughts, the ones I’ve seen, the ones I never will
triggered by calculated classwork prompts
I believe I know my son as well as I know myself
my crammed journal has not been as honest as his
learned years have taught me to erase
going forward, I’d like to use the mind I’ve been gifted
and not get washed from a worm hole come spring
this year I choose the season of color
no neutral shades will hide my eyes or stifle my pens
I will be honest in my art
I will be honest in my writing

my first honest thought
this scares the crap outta me

Paper Shadow

Paper Shadow

Advertisements