Monday, April 16, 2012
and i've heard people say that they count all the stars,
all the stars in the heavens above us.
and that's impossible to do, some say
to count all the stars up there.
that's all i want to do, you know.
all i want to lay in the grass
and to hold the warm air in my hand.
and i want to count them, those stars up there,
starting at infinity and ending there too.
and then i want to wish on every single one, and most of my wishes will be
about you and cures and no more littering, too.
all i want is to know them, those stars,
by their first names, and last names, and blood types.
i want to tell them that my heart was taken by a 5 letter name
and that i am scared to get it back.
i want to read the stars, you see.
and i want you to read them too.
they'd tell us there was a grassy place,
behind a bunch of trees.
they'd say there was red corduroy and sweatshirts, too.
they'd whisper "i hope you remember" "i miss you" and "please, come home soon"
and plenty and plenty of flowers and dreams.
they'd wrap me up in memories that i get to keep inside them forever.
and then you know what they'd do?
they'd kiss the blue on my lip and
i'd know what they meant,
they'd mean that you were with me right there.
right underneath that spot on my lip.
right underneath the memories of this.
right underneath my wishes and dreams.
right underneath a number thats far too big.
underneath all these infinite stars.
"don't forget to remember me"
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
and i should be sleeping right now
or thinking of the million billion things i need to do within the next
15 days and swallow it all
and then wallow it all
and then fall asleep somehow in all that "-allow"ing.
but instead i'm thinking of seat belts
and how i wish you'd never forget to wear them.
i'm thinking of coves of trees and grass and moons and clusters of stars.
i'm thinking of longboards and scraped toes
and i'm thinking of giggles and squeaks
and freckles and knees
and i'm thinking of letters.
i'm thinking that what i think is just a lot of thinking
and there isn't really much knowledge in there like i've always thought
and mostly its just air and bristles and wonderful wispy thoughts.
but the things that i know are the things that i feel
in my heart.
and sometimes my heart really hurts me,
and it beats slower and longer and pulls me all around to memories and memories
and laughs and cries.
and missing and loving are maybe the same thing
except that loving doesn't hurt when you're gone.
but loving sometimes has to include missing.
missing from your heart, or from your empty hand, or cold ribcage
or from over seas, or down the street or even from moab.
i guess what i mean is its not bad to miss.
because missing is loving,
and loving is you.
"yeah, put them in a lamp to light my world."
Sunday, April 1, 2012
if i had to stand up on top of a mountain,
and if i had to strip all of my walls and all of my fears and all of my everything
and if you had to sit at the bottom and listen to me,
and if i got to yell,
yell as hard as i could,
so you could hear me and know that i meant it,
and the whole world could hear me, because my mountain would echo.
but not a loud and not a scary echo like you would imagine,
because i would breathe in all of the wind that lived on the top of my mountain.
and when i yelled the wind back out, my words would cling to it.
and they'd tickle your nose and your face and blow in your hair,
and somehow, someway, you'd know what i meant when you breathed in my air.
you'd feel it and be it and hear it whisper in your ear.
it would echo all the way to pluto, it would echo to my house,
it would echo to germany and to wyoming
and especially to your heart.
and i would tell you my name, first of all, of course.
and then i would tell you i loved you,
that i thought you were wonderful and great and bright.
i'd tell you that you light up a room, that you make people better,
i'd tell you thank you for listening, i'd tell you to smell more flowers,
i'd tell you to compliment a stranger.
then you know what i'd tell you?
i'd tell you i've been through some hard things.
that i've made some mistakes,
that i have good intentions but they often don't come out how i want them too.
i'd tell you i want more than anything to be perfect,
and that every day i have to remind myself that its just not possible.
i'd tell you that i'm scared of my dreams sometimes,
that i'm scared i'll forget things that are important.
that i don't trust many people, that i wish ill for some people,
and that i talk about others more than i should.
and then i would tell you that i don't know much.
but i then the winds would get very soft and smooth and warm,
the kind of wind that fills you up,
the kind of wind that feels like flying.
and i'd tell you.
i'd tell you that i know one thing more than i know anything else is true,
one thing i know that i'll never forget,
one thing thats more important to me than all of my other things.
i'd tell you that i know God loves me.
that He loves me more than i can comprehend,
He loves me enough to put you in my life,
He loves me enough to make it sunny outside,
He loves me enough to give me sunsets and stars and half-filled moons.
i'd tell you that i know He has a son,
He's my best friend, and He died for me, and He's carried me through every tear-filled moment.
i'd tell you that They love you, too.
that They know your faults better than you do,
but that They love you more than all of that.
and then i'd leave the wind swirling in and out of your brain and eyes and nose
and you'd drink it and feel it and
it would grasp onto your oxygens and enter your lungs and your heart,
and there my wind would stay.
and you'd know it like i do.
oh how i wish i could give you my wind.
but next time you hear it, you listen real close,
because the wind is always echoing.
echoing that all of this is true.
"here's my heart, Lord"