walking waist heavy


the old vinyl salesman
occupying the milkcrate
sitting low, mindful of the rust within his knees
rubbing a face of mahogany slowly
that’s part of my kinfolk on this journey

all this soul, all of these past prologues
all these moments weighing on me
like vibrato signed by Sonny’s fingers
make travel like a cargo ship stacked high
sailing waist-heavy in muddied ocean channels

i know what i got
i will let go of
i know what i got
i will let go of

and the sailing away will be light
and i’ll wear a gentle evergreen breeze
as a scarf to meet the horizon

old comics and some worry


(Photo credit: The Urbnite)

faded panels of comics that comforted me
when I was eleven
sit between my fingers
not trying to pay attention to the taiko drums
that tend to only want to play when I rest

you wonder
if this is what your parents sipped from
as you slept back then
that the baggage their eyes carry now
was so you didn’t have to pack as much

but still
we travel heavier than we need to
and when I look at the eyes of my mother
and the eyes of my father
there is pride, love and their own fears

that I’ve begun to sip that too-long oolong tea
of worry
and that I have stopped packing light
so I thumb through old comics and constant prayers
hoping that they aren’t right