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I am...a New Yorker
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Tuesday, March 25, 2003
Writing Poetry
Sidebar

The sidebar was never one for poetry.

I am...not sure where it's coming from. If nothing else, it gets to the heart of the matter. I've got some meat to work with.


Cocoa in Brown in Redwood
I didn't want to see you that way
Tho, with your dark, cocoa skin
And crisp brown suit,
You were so handsome

More intimate than if
You were naked
Because I was there
And you were not
I cried
as I tried not to look
at your abandoned shell

Your left hand was shriveled
Thumbs, too
But they put it on top
Would have pissed you off

Strange to see
Hands that hurt me so badly
So small, so still, so weak

: : :

Reflections of You
Distracted by your reflection
I wander into the mist
once more

My own face grows obscure there
I struggle to define it
glasses one day, lipstick the next

Long, lean, pale youth
dark hair and heavy-frames contrast
Love boys in spectacles

Unrequited reality burns off the haze
We may never see ourselves again
city of mirrors shattered

: : :

I've also revised and renamed Curious Yella, solidifying the triangle and also changed the focus. I'll take it as it comes, like the gift it is.

[Next entry: "Displacing my Emotions"]
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