mergers and acquisitions

busy, busy, be
as busy as i was
pounding the pavements of
NYC, lost
but raging on in
the concrete jungle i
called home.
now that jungle
is a flurry of green
racing by as i
drive
to my next stop, under
blue (such clear blue
and unadulterated) skies,
riding the clock like
it was a whore in the tenderloin,
just working for the money
when she can.
the days are passing
like post-its
being ripped off
their sticky pad, quickly,
and quietly, and
falling to the floor
with not a sound or
a care
in the world, fluttering
with a lightness
beyond their yellow,
paper trails as fall
sets sail -
here we go again.

~k.

intro to fall

the cracks let the past
in, little slivers
of sunlight crowding the corners
and bathing them in light,
too much, too sharp now
and i want to run like
strippers when the blacklights
are shut off, scuttle back to the
darker parts
like cockroaches in an alleyway.
all this progression
can't possibly be good for
one's soul, can it?
and yet onward we all march,
pretending, laughing
and all the while
the sunlight shivers in...
enough to see the breakups
and beginnings and
babies that might have been yours -
but still light sinks in,
fishnets over skin
marking me all the way to
the next gig.
the cracks let the past
in, little slivers of
sin and good decisions
washing over the corners
of the attic of
my mind.

~k.

take off

walking, tall
beyond the shadow of the doubt
i uselessly instilled inside myself
so long, long ago...
but here i am, still
living, still
breathing and standing, still
and even in the wake of
moving mountains and
waving goodbye to ghosts.
i remind myself daily
"keep going, keep
beating" and
it works but it all
hurts just the same, my
heart low and heavy in
it's cage.
not sad, just low, just
tired... but
this struggle is worth
the pain, it won't
find it's vanity in gilded
promises riding into sunsets -
it is my own,
it is what i own and
even though it cuts to the quick,
sometimes,
my nails always seem
to grow back.
forget the promises.
forget the useless doubt.
keep that beat low,
girl, and
maybe you'll find
the ground was never that
scary to begin with.

~k.

coming up, spring

it's these days that really get to me, lazy and light and "maybe i'll just take a bath" kind of days that last and last and last... it's the dusks that make the spring worth surviving through (cause that little rodent spent too long underground and tried to will spring here but the seasons remain unmovable as frigid hearts and clock hands), i mean it's been a little chilly but the days are growing longer and the nights, warmer - and another spring will pass into summer and i will dip my toes in the water, whatever water that i can find, and i will think of golden sunsets in the park and lightning bolts between our fingers and green, green, green; it's amazing the things you never want to forget fade so fast, like the sound of your grandfathers voice even though it's only been a  little over a year, or the way my bones jutted from my skin (even though i know it's wrong to starve yourself that lightness, like feathers, like femininity), under leotards and tights that only encouraged me... and the things you try to forget, they stick; like superglue, they do, and your brain just won't let them go... so instead of feeling the soft grass on my back and smell that fine clear blue sky above, here i'll be thinking about these memories my body has moved on from, these tiny little ghosts that hang out in the attic of your mind.

that's okay, though, right? isn't wisdom just aged experience?

~k.

silver linings

i've been thinking a lot about my dreams lately, like, when did they disperse like oil in water, and how did the things i once thought were so simple have mutated into a many-armed, many-eyed pms monster? i read things about change and the acceptance of aging and what wisdom is (turns out, it's knowledge that has experienced life, fucking proverbs) and how to avoid bitterness and what really makes us happy... and all of it, every single bit of these snippets of life and love and learning - essentially they all say the same thing.

be patient.

be kind.

be willing.

fuck me, right? here i was, thinking the many years i have spent driving myself towards this goal, the hours i've let wash away taking class, the minutes that wrap themselves around the music in my head... be patient. be kind. be willing.

i am thirty. my patience is waning, as are my hips. i don't have the patience to be kind and willing anymore. am i bitter because i was forced to resign gracefully? betrayed by my own body, frustrated that my mind will forever be a better dancer than my body ever was?

is wisdom the art of resigning willfully? of not allowing your own body to misrepresent what you actually are? do i have to be kind about it so that i can ease my own inhibitions about aging and soften the blow of this graceful resignation - otherwise known to the rest of the world as "giving up"? there is only a letter of difference between "kind" and "king". do i want to be king of my world, or be kind to it?

and is there a possibility for those two to live sympathetically side by side?

~k.

triple falls

these leaves, they've
been turned over and
around, soft
on the ground and
freckle it with pretty yellows
and oranges and
reds, all flipped from
stem to head.
so bright they burned,
lighting the carolina mountains
like stars behind the stars
in the inky night sky,
those massive pinpricks
of searing fire, burning
out with each brilliant
flicker.
fifteen seasons of
watching leaves die,
since looking in your eyes
that balmy morning at
the back door, the
stars and the leaves
curling at the speed of
their own light;
fifteen seasons of praying
for green, for
rebirth of the color
of forgiveness, of promise;
fifteen seasons and
i have moved on,
and you have moved on,
or at least to places
our flames wouldn't
-couldn't-
ignite inside each other.
fifteen seasons later,
and here we are.
bridging the gap
with silence,
with space,
with feigned ignorance
but
we
are
still
here.
leaves turning, burning
out like stars
behind the stars in the
inky night sky.

~k.

old crow

stop.

~k.