Mortar And Pestle
Poem/Prose Collection from August and September 2025
Wind around my ankles Take me away Hang me upside down and Shake me til I smile Sometimes I wade through moments Knitting my eyebrows and tensing my jaw As if the ground was draped with stinging nettle And I was barefooted and without pants No, no I don't have to go on like that The ground can be basil and strawberries If I so choose
------------------------------ We call to the land Who answers back? The wind Ants and spiders Ambiguous shapes Fleeting feelings Words that may or may not Be your own What is yours, anyway? Who are you?
------------------------------ Pressure A grip, soft but firm If I kept pacing around I might overlook it Though persistence is hard to ignore Right over my solar plexus it sits I feel resistance And it is rather stubborn A quick glance around the room Will anyone else do something about it? Any takers? Please mend this rift of my own making A guy can dream Though it is only I that can solve this Because it is only I who knows it is there Action can be uncomfortable Avoidance is even more excruciating
------------------------------ Sailing on a windless day In the baking sun Or Sailing in a hurricane Beholden to the thrashing waves I have lived both of these days And I will live them again I cannot change the weather For I am not the clouds Nor the sun, nor the wind It's best to focus on the sail It musn't be made cheaply Or set hastily Tend to the stitches and the folds With care and intention This vessel will never sink
------------------------------ The smell of fire Ninety degree heat Falling leaves A distant thunderstorm The bodies of old, massive trees Lay idle Strewn out on the rocks They embody bridges and homes Until the river surges again A fun, winding death Making pit stops of life
------------------------------ We're all searching for perfection We're all Also Working from lines already drawn Circles Turn into Ovals Turn into Ambiguity Which could be Anything and everything Which makes Perfection Sound much less enticing
------------------------------
Through spending time together
I see you all in many different lights
Day
Dusk
Twilight
Night
The colors of your faces
And your words
Always shifting
Always beautiful------------------------------ Moving forward with trust And a smirk filled with optimism Eyes closed Why open them if I can't see what lies ahead? Just feeling what it feels like to go there Instead
------------------------------ Make anything Share what is coming through Someone will love it It might be the best thing That they've ever seen, heard, and felt But their acknowledgment is secondary To the one that comes from deep within A pure elation At having expressed what was true
------------------------------ Some questions enliven me They have me buzzing around Like a bee in a meadow Searching for the nectar that makes the most sense Other questions paralyze me Like a deer At the sound of unfamiliar footsteps Hoping that this bewildering answer Will just leave me alone
------------------------------ And then Everything became still The spaces between the words The silence between the noise I was absolutely enamored with using the doorknob And placing that book on the counter The corner of it hanging off the edge Moments that I may never clock In a different state of mind But here I am At a standstill in the bathroom
------------------------------ They may appear to be clueless But they pay close attention This opaque, small, brown mass Birthed from within delicious, juicy pulp And scraped clean by my very own teeth They knew it the moment I spit them out They knew that light was shining on them That their neighbors were talking to them That the temperature was warm, still All of this without eyes, ears, nose, or hands They just sense it I buried this little genius today And they knew it After months in the cold and dark They may decide to grow limbs Such wisdom in their precision All I can do is bow my head And promise to spit out their children just the same
------------------------------ Worldly inputs Reach the mortar and pestle of my mind Their nuance and depth Turned into a fine powder Steeped in water And sipped slowly The flavor is oh, so subtle today I can't quite put my finger on it
------------------------------ I don't wish to sit on the floor and watch you play guitar. Nor would I like to interact with your painting only through this frame on the wall. Creativity needs to be played with, not simply observed. Let me sing to your song and write a poem to your painting. Let me paint your song and sing your poem. I implore you, don't just stand there. Eat the fruit, plant the seed!
I am the pure ecstasy at having expressed as well as the excruciating avoidance
(“Feeding the poems” type response )
Love these so much, wish I could see all the drawings you made with them too
The seeds one gets me everytime
I’d dance to your poems