I don't know how I noticed it was you
your hat was pulled down over your face
Fog rolled in by the train station
and the morning boats pulled away
The shadows stretched like the tide
as the streetlights extinguished
and the sun took over
Blog by Hannah Frank
I don't know how I noticed it was you
your hat was pulled down over your face
Fog rolled in by the train station
and the morning boats pulled away
The shadows stretched like the tide
as the streetlights extinguished
and the sun took over
Many strange things have transpired inside of my heart
Many strangers have seen into my soul
Many souls have seen into my stranger
Many rocks have seen my roll
Many rolls have gathered stones
Moss thinks itself smarter
but it is the speed of time
that gets me now.
I cannot let the mindset of hope dwindle
I cannot let the bear of the microphone eat me
I must sing, dance and play
running circles around my own doubt
until I am laughing at myself
The computer often asks me to verify myself
and I've been asking myself the same
turning the ring on my finger
and smiling into the wind because life is short
and why not smile
Bring the good mood
Usher in the day
It's about coffee as well as
It's about jogging and eating food to gain energy
I've often thought of prayer
on rainy nights sitting by the window
heart beating and storm raging
I've often thought of sun
when sitting under the moonlight
Why can't I just see what is in front of me
for once?
I am home inside myself.
I am home inside myself.
I am home inside myself.
I am home inside myself.
The Earth tunes in to
the waving clouds
burned solid through
the mosquito smoke
trees hang in the wind
like bunches of grapes
ocean waves dark and
indigo melting into the
sand, dreaming in
wild colors.
After speaking in tongues for so long, snake pit venom mixed in with the red wine
on the table with the hemlock the hems of the dresses being pulled by the threads of time
How can I ever now turn honest, in the court of law?
And love the angel that came to me
in the fog of the Clark Street night
Second version:
The night whispers through the trees and hums my favorite tunes
in the darkness, blacker than oil, smoother than a movie star's silk robes.
First version:
Pacified for now, the heart of my jewels shines
Opened for now, the treasure trunk dusty genie lamps heave wishes
Closed for now, the door to my soul is always creaking in the wind
Pampered for now, the movie star's silk robes are dropping
Puckered for now, her lips are like a wild rose
Pumping for now, the oil fields are on fire
Burning for now, the hearts of men are charred to black
Black for now, the night is calling you
whispering for now, humming her favorite tunes.
It's weird, I've had this blog for years
and I've never tried to write a poem at night
Is it because after sunset, the demons come out?
Or perhaps a Jewish violinist can't stay awake.
Not sure. I throw rocks into the Lake at night
or run a stick through the mud
count the stars and heave smooth glass at the tree trunks
I cup the cold sand in my hand
and peacefully become a remission of my own self.
That's what I usually do at night,
not write poems.
These deceits that have no receipts
The correction on the player's book
The pool game that got thrown
The river rocks that got smooth
The grains of sand collected into a hourglass
turning it
back and forth.
The champion of the day
The child who, held close at night
The pillows cut and unfeathered--
I am no longer afraid of freeloading SOBs.
The obstacle of passion
governed by feelings
is pavement
underneath the bus
of sacred commitments.
These are small battles
affirmations of proof
evidence of words and deeds
concrete with time and progress.
Feelings are not your friends.
They plan for comfort.
You need a sherpa
leading you down the hard path
between who are are
and who you want to be.
I don't know how I noticed it was you your hat was pulled down over your face Fog rolled in by the train station and the morning boats p...