My basket is full of first chapters, first lines.
I'm sorry, authors. You deserve a present attention.
I'm sorry, authors. You deserve a present attention.
My basket is too full of tiny breath checks,
anxiety surging as if driven by axial tilt and
satellite gravity. They spill over in gasps and snaps.
anxiety surging as if driven by axial tilt and
satellite gravity. They spill over in gasps and snaps.
My basket has no room, right now,
for your chant of freedom and bravery
because I am not brave enough
To march to a bookstore or a mall
or my parents' house
as if to battle.
Not even to the lines of actual conflict.
I am cowardly enough to retreat to the porch,
stuffing hugs from the dogs into this
half-written notebook,
turned away from consumption.
for your chant of freedom and bravery
because I am not brave enough
To march to a bookstore or a mall
or my parents' house
as if to battle.
Not even to the lines of actual conflict.
I am cowardly enough to retreat to the porch,
stuffing hugs from the dogs into this
half-written notebook,
turned away from consumption.
My basket is full of the dystopia I won't read.
This is the wretched spun satellite, bristling with the guns
trained by the baffled leadership to
cross-stitch their slogans on the bodies of others.
In the grim, gaunt, castellated bunker
On the dystopia moon, the tapestries are us,
but we all are fitted with his visage so that he can own our stories.
This is the wretched spun satellite, bristling with the guns
trained by the baffled leadership to
cross-stitch their slogans on the bodies of others.
In the grim, gaunt, castellated bunker
On the dystopia moon, the tapestries are us,
but we all are fitted with his visage so that he can own our stories.
My basket doesn't have--perhaps I never went deep enough--
asphodels from the Gate Beneath.
asphodels from the Gate Beneath.
The furry moth Pandora found starves, gnaws a hole, flies out.
Hope has to be a moth to live in the dark.
I burn citronella.
Hope has to be a moth to live in the dark.
I burn citronella.
My basket doesn't have room for forward motion,
not even for a die-cast car pulled back to leap forward.
Forward is sideways:
a sparrow waiting for sunflower seeds before the flower blooms.
Dial another day around the green,
let the sun leave a message in the basket.
not even for a die-cast car pulled back to leap forward.
Forward is sideways:
a sparrow waiting for sunflower seeds before the flower blooms.
Dial another day around the green,
let the sun leave a message in the basket.
My basket is full.
Wishing you plenty of room for hope & forward motion in your basket this week!
-- Chrissa
I love this so much Chrissa. I tried to write something a bit similar, but got frustrated with it, but yours is gorgeous. I feel the weight of all that we face difficult and the lightness of hope all rolled together. I wish I had written this!
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