poem

Road trip

Poetry

I study your face

Closely and carefully

Like a fox in the snow

Noiselessly watching the hare

As it grazes and gasps with

Every small noise.

Peering from behind

A slick granite rock.

Amber eyes catch a shard of sunlight

In the cornea

And scream in brief squeezing silence

Against the radiance of the golden hour,

Which only arrives

When it wants

It never leaves;

But rather dissipates.

Until the night

Has breathed her sultry, misty embrace

Onto the navy landscape

With sighing grays and shy greens

Flashing by in the window

As we fly down the Sierras at 60 mph.

Fog thick as cream cheese forgotten

In the back of the fridge,

You watch the road

Biting your cheeks.

Forbidding others to pass.

Somewhere else.

Watching unresolved business

Remain unresolved.

grove of nasturtiums with trippy effect- photo by Tierney Brannigan

Write Drunk

Poetry

Write drunk
Edit sober.
Foamy words
Churning over.

I am sorry.
It isn’t me:
It’s the chemicals,
It’s the hormones,
It’s my damn body.

Lock the door
Keep me out
Hide the key,
Deserved doubt.

I really am sorry
I know that it’s tough
But I need your soft anger
When I’m feeling real rough.

Go do what you love
You do need that time
To be yourself, to escape
To leap away and to thrive.

I will watch the dog
She had a shit day,
Between going to the vet
And begging us to play.

Forgiveness. Forget-ness.
Love is not hippocampal,
It runs, walks, and falls
It wanders and rambles

I am grateful to have you
Somewhere secret I know
You are not the usual
Bone-headed beau.

I really am sorry
And I’ll try to do better,
For you and for us
For now and forever.

white and yellow daisies in bloom with trippy effect - photo by Tierney Brannigan

Daisy

Poetry

Daisy, you are small, but you are big.
You are rewiring my brain and rewriting my story.
You remind me of who I wanted to be,
I think.

The love is not just there.
It is growing and gnawing.
Slipping into moments, so unexpectedly.
Love is surprising.

I love your little teeth.

This isn’t completely what I expected.
It’s hard to predict how new additions
Will become new editions.

You are here. There is not an “I” anymore.
There is an “us.” There is a “you.”
Thank you for making me learn
How to be outside of myself.

I am a blade of grass

Poetry

I am a blade of grass
And then there is the world.
To my shallow root I hold fast
And then there is the world.

I couldn’t not have that drink last night
I tried to chase away the nagging craving
With weed, but it only tipped the door
Forward. Just enough to lose its latch.

I am not going to regret it
Or beat myself up
What am I really chasing away?

I am a half-full glass
And then there is the world.
I give myself a pass
And then there is the world.

Just a girl, just a pearl
In a rock-hard shell
In the world.

purple and white winged beach lilac with trippy effect- photo by Tierney Brannigan

Take Chances

Poetry

Take chances.

Taking chances doesn’t mean jumping off the cliff.
Sometimes it means stepping away.

Step away from the “what if”s and worries.
Take a chance on the present.

Stand on the cliff’s edge
And let yourself into the wind.

See where it takes you.

See what it feels like to stumble away.
See what it feels like to be okay
With not chasing after unknowns.

Chance is a two-sided coin.
Flipping it is the only action you can take.

yellow, peach, and red nasturtium with trippy effect- photo by Tierney Brannigan

Unexpectedly Familiar

Poetry

You want to hurt him
Just because you can.
It’s nice to feel powerful
In love.

You feel tethered to the ground
When you hold his hand.
Resenting the feeling of a grasp,
Heart hinged on a flesh clasp.

It hurts when he kisses you
Because he presses too hard,
Like he is pinching himself
Awake.

Between the layers of uncertain acceptance,
Dismissal.
Whiskers and eyelashes,
Cheeks and nose bridges.

The number of times
I have looked up at your face
And the light catches each feature
Unexpectedly familiar—normally different.

white jasmine shrub with trippy effect- photo by Tierney Brannigan

Distance

Poetry

Distance makes the mind grow louder,
Makes the heart grow prouder,
Makes my feet a little itchy,
Makes my stare a little bitchy.

Being far away from you
Used to feel kind of good.
You couldn’t touch me, or hear me
As long as I didn’t let you near me.

My space – my name – my life.
My freedom. My fears.
My safety – my body.
My fears.

I fell back in love with you
Just the other day,
It was love – it was drugs
It was our only way.

It’s good to feel close
And it’s good to feel you,
It’s good to be alone
In the room with you.

fuchsia and yellow lantana with trippy effect- photo by Tierney Brannigan

Ear to Ear

Poetry

It’s truly been a while, my dear
Since we saw each other, ear-to-ear
Talking has grown into a chore
Conversations are gray, a sad drudgy bore.

Where did it go?
Was it even there?
Hard to know
When lust keeps you unaware.

Listen- – -Listen! to me
I’ve been screaming for us
Ever since year three

Things really aren’t the same
Like the smell right before the rain
I can tell something new is on the way
Like a budding’ flower waiting on life’s decay

Where will we grow?
Are we even here?
So hard to know
When you’re in your 7th year.