Tag Archives: reality

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College 101

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

holdosi / Pixabay

College 101

Modern Dance, bodies in rhythm to Van Morrison, Enigma.
Great in History. Strongly encouraged to publish all the
spilling words, heartaches, confusions, anger, dreams, worries.
A magic wand in a pen. Alleviate destruction. The destructive.

Nursing an infant while writing essays, studying dates & names
& practicing steps in the apartment hallway. Be somebody, be
somebody, be somebody, hear the beats, not beatings.

Assistant manager, tired eyes, how to get away quicker. Forget
Teaching, MFA hopes. 2 year program ought to do it. Dance, dance,
Keep dancing. Forget the yelling. The handed-over paychecks. Crazy, unrepentant eyes.

Perfect score on Case Brief. Great comments. Mock trial won. Who’s
Mocking you now? Only Him, Time. You’re pressing & pressing against it, that red clock on the wall. Mother given 2 years, won’t take meds. Elmo keeps smiling & Pampers keep piling. Storybooks & tears. Night terrors. Gotta leave, gotta go, can’t stay.

An artist paints you. You run into his arms on a rain-washed night.
So, this is what being made love to is. You think he must be unreal.
After some time, you deliver yourself instead to demons. Grandmother scolds you for leaving, running, learning LOVE. No one is glad for HAPPY.
Except your mother who says Yes, Him. Say Yes to him. You watch him drive away, miles upon miles out of your life. Things collapse. You see
an old college friend, beautiful, smiling, working for some firm. You

Imagine she will marry a lawyer, or become one. You keep thinking poetry, da-dum da-dum da-dum. Drumbeats & heartbeats & fuck the world is always spinning too fast or too slow.

Years pass. Plans unraveled. Maybe a 1 year this time. Appreciate Art, Appreciate Music, your son singing Sinatra with you, how you read from Shakespeare together, whom he calls Shakesbeard. Then you homeschool. He chooses Sylvia Plath from the bookshelf, finds a copy of Anne Sexton’s Collected Poems and brings it home to you, so proud to hand it over. He learns about those women- says “Mama, you won’t ever kill yourself, will you?”

Medicine. Boring. No poetry there, but you make the Dean’s List. You hang your certificate like a rag doll on a coat rack. Everything feels out of place. Hours & hours of studying terminology. All you remember now is Sarco means “flesh.” You stare at your arms & think about it. This makes you remember your RX is due for a refill, as is your life.

-Heather Lenz
March 17, 2016

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Soon

Categories: Art, Poems, Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

photo credit: Heather Lenz

photo by: Heather Lenz

Soon

Who are you to tell me
what I need or who I am? Point out each
supposed flaw

When I am a tree, still & quiet–
barely alive among your wreckage.

You pick my fruit when I feel warm &
leave me barren. It is always winter
when you sit on your throne in my shade

like a winning god who fools everyone. &
you devour all that is left of me, even the sapling,
that once grew beside me.

The lightning in your eyes severs my
branches, those that once reached
toward numerous stars & gathered
windswept rain.

I’ve become rooted in your
corroded soil. I am full of rust now,
stories & wisdom too painful to name.

You go about your days feeding
off the last of me. Soon
I will burn to the ground.

Soon.

& few will know or understand
what started that fire. They will
shake their heads & say

“A damn shame about that odd tree
that stood for so many years”

Then they will probably shake your hand
give their condolences,
& walk away.

-Heather Lenz
Feb. 2016

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So I Thought

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , ,

 

Bonnybbx / Pixabay

 

So I Thought

All years of would-be, could’ve been love-
All of them behind me, some residue of
A dream at the bottom of an abandoned
Wishing Well,

weeds consuming the landscape.
Some shadow of a girl dancing
with light in her eyes.

And you keep treading water, and I keep
sinking downward, never knowing

what to expect in
such dark waves.

I look for coral reefs and
see my reflection in some
old mirror, cracked by time and pressure.

I see I am no Siren, even though my hair
is red and my skin fair, even though

I thought I had enough songs to last me
a lifetime.

-Heather Lenz
January 14, 2016

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Resolution

Categories: Journal, Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Resolution

I’m going to be a bitch. Serious. I’m done with sensitivity. Open arms. Helping others when I sit here broken and sick. I’m going to be a selfish speck. A cheerleader for my own opinions and needs. I’m not going to ask people how they are, unless they ask first. And then whatever they say I’ll respond with “it could be worse” (because that’s an ignorant and insensitive thing to say).

I’m going to take a lover and require his total devotion (at least sexually). I’m going to be reckless but not in a violent or conspicuous way. I’m going to fucking smile even though my teeth are imperfect. I’m going to go out dancing again when my back allows and I’ll dance all fucking night- even on tables and I may even flash my scarred little breasts. Suck this, Motherfuckers.

I’m going to call people out on their bullshit, rather than hold it in and let it produce another panic attack. I’m going to say outright: “You know what? You’re really an obvious asshole! You should wear your underwear on your head, because all that comes out of it is SHIT and offensive noise!” Then an argument will ensue probably but that’s okay because I’m going to get someone to build me a Waldenish portable cabin that I can take anywhere when it gets so thick you need to wear boots.

And music! Man, I’m going to play it often and LOUD. From Sinatra to Eminem to Pavarotti, motherfuckers! And I’ll even spit out some Waylon Jennings in the inner city! Hah!

I give myself full permission this year to go crazy and be somewhat satisfied. No more moving along the edges of MY OWN LIFE! You got that? It’s MY life! So go suck an egg or if you’re nice (like truly nice, not the fake nice) fill out an application to be my lover or just buy me a double-shot mocha.

Happy Damn New Year

-Heather Lenz

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Rain & Hail

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

 

Unsplash / Pixabay

 

Rain & Hail

It’s pelting against my window- I can’t sleep.
The birds left scars of beauty in sunlight-
I watched them feed & thought of you- your
final flight or descent. And, I know where that
place is- that which holds so much terror you
dare not breathe. Where you are afraid of your
own reflection & the expectations of a world that
knows so little of your soul. The seeds you planted.

The costume you wore for days on end. The way you
smiled while hugging a tree & from what I was told
you’d never raise your voice. You didn’t know your
rarity or heroism. Somewhere down the line after

you tried to settle back in, it all got so clouded &
I did not know you so I could not reach you. But, I
know your kind, am your kind, would have loved you
frequently & with assurance. And my heart collapses

to see your eyes in your father’s eyes & the heart
in him torn asunder, that I can do little about.

I wrote a poem that was inspired by your father’s
love, you know. Just as I am writing this while I hurt
in ways that not be named or openly
discussed. This is what makes me wish you alive

even more- to know that you felt that bad & I,
by some miracle of a god I’m very pissed off at,
might have found you & helped you make the
shadows, moonbeams, birds or
whatever was your favorite country song to sing…
rise up & call us in-  then dance the pain away.

I am sorry for our kind-  for various warriors.

Every great heart that turns inward. Every
thought or tear that rises within the morning
of rain and hail, is filled with you & your father

as he slowly gets out of bed & sees your eyes in his-

then echoes his cries in the shock of you gone.

& the blue skies of
seldom summers, that you

fought so hard to defend.

~Heather Lenz
Dec. 2015

in loving memory and respect for E.D.

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