lauren michele (arrowed) wrote,
lauren michele

word currencies

it has been forever since i've posted, which i attribute to financial hardship but raised self-esteem, dad's heart attack and my subsequent journey to take better care of myself. i will never stop writing, but sometimes i withdraw; it tends to be in the hardest of times that i practice life with just myself.

fourth year of teaching and i love what i do so much, it has truly breathed youth culture back into me and i love the vibrancy i see around me in the Bronx; i also want to be a writer, again. which means that i want to put more effort into revision, into the possibility of publishing my words, in a way that i gave up on when i was 19. "giving up" isn't the right word, though. i made choices. deliberate choices, because i want to teach others how to use their voicebox, in writing AND in speaking, and i had to learn how to speak first. i also took the publishing process into my own hands, and traded words with others - b/c that was the only currency i've ever been interested in.

as i grow older, i am starting to see how linear my choices have been, even though i couldn't see the connections at the time. i wasn't idling in time, i was diversifying my skillset, learning to do what i was not good at: perform. i am a page-poet, not a slam poet. i needed to learn intensity in my voice, daggers in my adjectives, all of this.

so i've decided that i'm going to publish again. with that in mind, here's a new poem i'm working on. feedback, as always, is encouraged and appreciated.


The size of This

I have been cresting
the crust of the earth,
peering into volcanoes,
trying to find you,
circumnavigating the city
to locate the coordinates
of your breath,

I am charting new territories
in dangerous waters
to wield your weapons. I lost
my compass, but kept walking
toward the sun.

You surprised my eyes
out of their sockets.
ninja-quiet in your ability
to hunt me down,
reel me in like red snapper,
memorize my phone number
and my rising sign between
your fingers, you opened up
a new avenue for being.

You have been a spring cruise
in a '61 lincoln converitble,
suicide doors.
I want just 5 more miles,
ten more minutes
to praise your name like worship.

Let the wind lift us
from this earthbound tragedy
and move us together,
beyond bold borders,
crossing countries,
bulldozing boundaries.

If you're lucky, these walls
might just melt themselves
into a foundation. I might
just build a house myself,
open the front door on
a brisk October evening,
and let you in.
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