You May Say I'm An Artist...More Like This
I am haunted in this holiday season by the opening lines of Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities, his novel about a society 250 years ago coming apart in its seemingly irreconcilable divisions. Could it be these lines define where we have come to find ourselves today?
“It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,
in the age of wisdom,
it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief,
it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light,
it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope,
it was th
155 days of rainthe doctor asked me if i felt positivelyMore Like This
about myself as a person and i bit his hand,
said send me to Seattle
so i can learn what these scars mean.
the rain baptized only my hair: my entire body
stayed dry but i felt like a mermaid,
a drop of sky turned summer soul. years ago,
a boy came to me from Seattle and dug his nails
into my palms to name me crescent moon.
i followed that crooked smile across state borders,
let it lead me to the widest horizon you can imagine.
our love was Thales’ wet dream: all water,
endless ocean to swim and swim and drown in.
i’ve got strong legs and a weak head,
never knew the meaning of almost
until the moon was just a sliver in the sky,
one he didn’t bother calling beautiful anymore.
i’ve been gone for so long i forgot where i was going.
maybe Seattle will reset these broken bones
beset with the incisions of his teeth.
maybe Seattle knows the secrets he does:
same stale breath, same bite marks and tan skin,
august's skeleton.Sunburnt freedom of JulyMore Like This
we come tumbling in the auburn joy of boredom
down the spine of summer.
And spelled in the scabs on your knees
is the innocent insolence
scuffing the corners of your memory:
all hyperbole, grinning toothless bravery
swallowed in your father's coat,
whipping around corners and slipping
out of a chiaroscuro childhood.