Napowrimo day 1

Hello my loves! It's that time of year again. So buckle your seat belts and put on your flying goggles because we're heading into this month's nano at full speed and without air bags. That's right, a poem a day for the entire month. So without further ado, day one's poem:

Antithesis:

Martin Luther,
When you posted your theses to the great church door, did your hands shake?
These words you had written painstakingly, letter by letter
Did they tremble with the enormity of what they were about to do?
What do you do when all you have is a small flame of conviction burning in your heart and the entire world is a thunderstorm of dissagreement?

Martin Luther,
When you were on the stand,
A jury of your equals telling you that everything you had written was
Wrong. Misguided. Treasonous.
Did your faith waver?
Did you imagine that maybe these bishops and deacons,
Knew more, knew better
Than you?
Did you ever think how easy it would be to just admit they were right,
This whole thing had been a great mistake,
How warm and safe it would be to return unto them?

Martin Luther,
When the Pope excommunicated you
When the emperor banished you
When you left Rome with a bible in one hand and what was left of your life packed in a neat roll on your shoulders
Did you ever look back?

I hope the world ends

One night from slumber woke abruptly
I shot up and peered about me
Across the room and scarcely moving
A man in black stood cowed and cringing
Black gloves wrapped with careful  strength
Around my most treasured Monet

I inquired "Do you desire
To collect, curate, inspire?"
"I just wish" he roughly said
"To not live life in scraps of bread"
"And at days and to know and lay
My head in home with rent I've paid."

"But this art holds value here
From its mantle place it peers
Down at houseguests of high status
Surely you see how that matters"
Alas I knew I could not reach him
There was nothing I could teach him.

Morality annot be taught
And ignorance cannot be bought
Unlike paintings, homes and bread
The only things in this thief's head.
Security disposed him then
I never thought of him again.

In a quiet moment

In some ways blues dancing is a lot like seining in a marsh.
Seining is a type of fishing that requires two people each wearing rubber overalls up to their armpits and holding the end of a long sheet of netting to drag said netting in a circle so that fish are forced to swim into the net and be caught.
Blues dancing is a form of social dance that emphasizes the connection between two people. Blues draws from the most basic beat of the music usually to move in very close contact with another person.
One of the first things I learned about blues is to pay attention to the space between the steps. Never pick your foot up with the intention of putting it back down again, always just pick your foot up. Be mindful of the way you sink into your foot that is left on the ground. Be mindful of the multitude of places your foot could go. Engage your abs and remain balanced and when you're finally ready to place your foot in a spot you've carefully chosen, only then should you take your next step.
I certainly don't reccomend this philosophy for all things in life but for seining it's certainly useful. In huge rubber boots in waist or chest high water where the bottom is obscured by dark muck the next step always warrants careful examination. When you're unsure of your own footing it pays to find your center of gravity.  Feel the ground gently before you put any weight onto it.  Investigate each step as an individual and significant choice.
The other thing seining and blues have in common is that they're both hell on knees.

Happy national coming out day

Happy coming out day  my loves.
I've been thinking on this pretty long and hard because although I'm openly queer in person, its definately worth considering that as an educator this post could cost me a job someday. That said, I think that's sort of the purpose of national coming out day. To make the world safer for me and other queer folks, however out or closeted you may be.
So here I am. I'm here and I'm queer. Sometimes I also like the labels gay or pansexual depending on the day.
Have a lovely and gay day ❤🧡💛💚💙💜

Red Leaves

"There's something nostalgic about fall"
He says to me.
The trees hum in agreement behind him.
The road in front of and behind the car waves goodbye
And hello.

"Or maybe,"
He muses,
"It's just that in fall you notice the time passing.
And you remember"

The great lindens are bright yellow at their tips and
Deep green at their center.
Maples flashes scarlet in great swathes
To hide its own mundane chlorophyll.

"You remember all the other times time has passed."

Guess what this ones about

A love letter to my ex

These days I have trouble finding the line between volatility and vitality.
Just a few letters, syntactically.
The difference between being delicate on the cusp explosion and full to the point of overflowing.
A glass beaker filled with unstable  glowing chemicals and a porcelain cup overflowing with love.

The problem with new York city is that it is too convenient a metaphor.
It's so full of grief and joy and death and life and poverty and wealth and fear and hope.
I don't have to feel when the city feels for me.
I walk through the streets with a blank cardboard mask.

The problem with new York is it's so full of grief and joy and death and life and poverty and wealth and fear and hope that
I feel it all.
Every smile, every tear, every house fire, every pet rescued from every house fire.
I weep on the subway and laugh on the sidewalk.

You taught me it was ok to hurt
But I taught myself the difference between hurting and wallowing.
You taught me it was ok to be a contradiction.
But I taught myself the difference between contradiction and hipocracy.
You taught me how you love me.
But I figured out how I wanted to be loved.
I miss you. I'm glad you're gone.

I am but dust and ashes

God created the heavens and the earth just for me.

God so many poems about fucking new York city

New York city is my favorite lover.
She lights the night sky for me and begets
The most vibrant and lingering sunsets.
Each night I know I could never leave her.

New York and I love with passion. She stirs
Joy at a street magician, grief for a
Homeless man, rage for screaming cars and days
When I lose my keys. She has strong tempers.

After her rage has passed, she always cries
And promises "never again" with sun-
Shine and fantastic art. We go for runs
Together and I drown in her eyes.

The city tells me she's my favorite lover.
Someday I'll love her enough to believe her.