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Literature Text
kate, you were right about the mountains.
i remember middle school.
you used to draw mountains, great
towering dreams in a big big world.
in fact i have one taped up next to my bed,
a reminder that, as craig finn put it,
“we can all be something bigger.”
i have finished jack kerouac’s
dharma bums. at the end of it all,
he is alone at the top of a mountain,
a life he built for himself.
he finds hope in desolation peak.
he drinks his coffee and performs
glorious headstand meditations and
finds a whole universe,
empty and
Awake.
i do not know if he was right about everything,
but he was right about something:
the best parts of his story
do not take place at the top of the mountain.
they take place as he lives and loves
and climbs with his best friend on this
empty/awake/desolate/beautiful earth.
kate, you were right about the mountains.
i think you were happiest drawing them,
concrete proof we are not
put on this earth to suffer.
we are not put on this earth to die,
not even those little-deaths of the
heart/mind/body/soul.
we will live and we will die and we will be reborn
but in the meantime let’s
make some pancakes&fuck&
climb/build/move/destroy mountains&
travel/run away/to something bigger&
ride trains&listen to all our favorite songs hell
make our own favorite songs&LOVE&
find our own small nirvanas
i don’t want to spend my time suffering
i want to spend my time here on desolation peak
in a way that matters
to me
i don’t give a fuck about the larger half
i am here now
i am in seventh grade watching someone i love
draw mountains
i am meditating next to the river
i am in my bed with a boy i love
finding small nirvanas in each other
i am dancing at a punk rock show
i am here now
& i am free.
i remember middle school.
you used to draw mountains, great
towering dreams in a big big world.
in fact i have one taped up next to my bed,
a reminder that, as craig finn put it,
“we can all be something bigger.”
i have finished jack kerouac’s
dharma bums. at the end of it all,
he is alone at the top of a mountain,
a life he built for himself.
he finds hope in desolation peak.
he drinks his coffee and performs
glorious headstand meditations and
finds a whole universe,
empty and
Awake.
i do not know if he was right about everything,
but he was right about something:
the best parts of his story
do not take place at the top of the mountain.
they take place as he lives and loves
and climbs with his best friend on this
empty/awake/desolate/beautiful earth.
kate, you were right about the mountains.
i think you were happiest drawing them,
concrete proof we are not
put on this earth to suffer.
we are not put on this earth to die,
not even those little-deaths of the
heart/mind/body/soul.
we will live and we will die and we will be reborn
but in the meantime let’s
make some pancakes&fuck&
climb/build/move/destroy mountains&
travel/run away/to something bigger&
ride trains&listen to all our favorite songs hell
make our own favorite songs&LOVE&
find our own small nirvanas
i don’t want to spend my time suffering
i want to spend my time here on desolation peak
in a way that matters
to me
i don’t give a fuck about the larger half
i am here now
i am in seventh grade watching someone i love
draw mountains
i am meditating next to the river
i am in my bed with a boy i love
finding small nirvanas in each other
i am dancing at a punk rock show
i am here now
& i am free.
Literature
My Promises To You
I promise to always love you
Today and every day that follows
I am handing you my heart
May it go wherever yours goes
I promise to never leave you
I will stand forever by your side
There's nothing that can break us
When our hearts are intertwined
I promise that in our dying days
When nothing is as it was before
Not only will I still love you
I will love you even more
Literature
4:28 AM
He told me He loved me.
He told me He knew I should be His from the first greet.
Here I am, 5 hours into the night, lying in my bed, smiling, and awake from the overpowering excitement of Him loving me.
Me. The crazy weirdo. The nostril flaring. The hair dyer. The language quitter. The picky eater. The anxiety attack survivor. The Harry Potter reference machine inventor. The girl who loves Him back.
Literature
Hibiscus Coast (08/04/16)
THe sea sends summer storms
Lashing on the pebbled beach
And hibiscus shiver in the sleet
Bright tendrils stalwart 'gainst
The pelting of a darkened cloud
They'll raise their tattered petals
Tomorrow to the sky
And drink of their defiance
Beneath the unclouded summer sky.
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Comments8
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Nice work on this. My only critique is the & symbol. It kind of breaks up the flow to have a symbol is there. Writing out the word would keep the flow and visual uniformity of the piece.