Saturday, November 29, 2014

Eucalyptus Mint

I love those trickle of rain
Dancing across window sills
And clouded up skies, foggy
like the way milk opaques coffee.

It lets me stay in bed,
It let's me negate the guilt of staying in bed,
When I need to:


It lets me pause my life
And say,

"Well, how about not today."

And then I can just pretend
The bed is a life
And I am living it

I can surf aimlessly the ends and outs of the internet
The last, lone thing connecting me to a ribboned out society.

I could, theoretically exist.
In this bed.

Ordered food and clothing off the internet.


I'm not sure I would even get bored.
I might just become discouraged
Causing me to sink deeper into the woven together blankets and pillows from which I've built my nest.

And at the end of the day
I would feel so alert
And so awake

I wouldn't even sleep.
I could take the actual world by storm.

At night.

Riley Welch

Friday, November 28, 2014

Favorite Fridays

This poem is a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me and my sisters. She wrote quite a bit of poetry, and I plan to post more once I find them, this one I know by heart. 

If you can't tell, the holidays brings out certain emotions that make me miss her a lot, lot, lot. 

BY: LaRa Woznicki

Go to sleep, my little one
Go to sleep, the day is done
Soon you'll see the rising sun
Go to sleep my little one.

Go to sleep, close your eyes
Go to sleep, and by and by
Angels guard your little bed
Go to sleep, my sleepy head

Go to sleep, my little one
Go to sleep, the day is done
God watch o'er you all night long
Go to sleep, 'til mornings dawn

Saturday, November 22, 2014


Thank goodness for these people
Though they may be here but a second
Thank goodness for their goodness
For their caring
For their split second hugs and hot coffees
Thank goodness for these people
For their ability to listen
And their ability to ramble
And thank goodness for these people
Knowing I need the distraction
Agreeing to be the distraction from the real world
Thank goodness for these people
For laughing
And lifting

And just for caring

Because I know people care
But from all angles of your life, it is so unique
Thank goodness for these people
All of these people
All around me
Inhabiting cracks of my life I didn’t know I was lonely

Thank goodness for these people
And all that they do
And all that they want to do
And all that they couldn’t do
But that they really tried to do.

Thank goodness for these people.


Riley Welch

Friday, November 21, 2014

Favorite Fridays

This weeks poem is also a song, both of which I have posted below! This is by my wonderful, lovely TA in the lab I mentor, Catalina Gempeler. And yes, it is about science!

Here is the song:

And lyrics:


I can see
Through your skin your bones and joints
in your bowels and  your blood that flows but 
more, there‘s more, ten times more cells than your own, that live and 
breathe and call you home, that live and breathe and call you home. 

If I was born in any other way I would have
a different set, I wonder if they would do as well
Cause mine agree with living down in Texas 
And they like to swim, I wonder if they picked me or

If I picked them, while doing things I like
By working late, by petting dogs or playing darts,
Just tell me what you think, Once you know all the creatures that keep me company
Cause we like it here, yes we like it here.

If I was born in any other way I would have
a different set, I wonder if they would do as well
Cause mine agree with being down in Texas and they 
like to swim, I wonder if they picked me or

Cause this song is about your micro biome
you re not alone they call you home, 
you re not alone they call you home, 

Wednesday, November 19, 2014


Rumble tumble
In one ear
And right out the other
Passing over and under the thoughts
That sticks themselves inside your head
But avoiding contact
Because they are only present for a minute
And they only represent a minute


Riley Welch

Monday, November 17, 2014


When you come from snow
You understand the stillness. 
The creeping of the silent flurries -
Hitting the snow.
Piling up.
Pillowing up.
Because snow doesn't need sound.
And the bright pure white
Reflects every speck of light
That comes into its view.

And if the clouds are still hanging low over the landscape they reflect the stars and the moon
And the world becomes lit up with all this reflected light
And being outside at night isn't scary.

It's like being in a room with a nightlight,
But the nightlight is bouncing off every white wall,
And maybe a mirror,
And the white of the carpet,
And curtains,
And sheets.

And you could hear someone coming from miles away
Because it's silent
And light
And sparkling.

Riley Welch

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Favorite Friday

Unfortunately this Favorite Friday is actually a Favorite Saturday. This poem is one my mother sent to me a while ago "to inspire me", which I would say it did. 

Perfection Wasted


And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market —
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That's it: no one;
imitators and descendants aren't the same.

Mugged Disappointment Part Two

The bitterness scowls your nose
Into a grimace
Your nostrils are hooks
Sinking into curled back lips
Showing your teeth

This is genuinely -
The worst -
Cup of coffee -
Ever tasted -

But you have to keep going
Because this is the liquid of life
This is what keeps you alive
Keeps you going.

You don;t finish this,
You don't speak for the day

But more importantly, you don't listen

So that black slimes claws its way down your throat
Avoiding your taste buds
My disappointment snaps from the disgusting coffee
To the slacking baristas
Who made it.

Please utilize La Marzocco
And those fresh harvested beans


I don't have time for poorly brewed water

It's sad,

It's gross,

And I'm already asleep.

Riley Welch

Wednesday, November 12, 2014


Faster, faster
Speed of lightening
Crushing, crushing
Smashed punched peeled
Whirling whirring
Fast paced

The sound of a thousand things happening at once
Blending into one unifying sound
The way every voice and scream on our Earth sounds like a solid static to everyone around us
Traffic horns and sirens
School bells and marching bands
And music, TV, footsteps, high-fives, crinkly fabrics, papers, key boards clacking
All rhythmically in sync with an unknown beat
We complete the motions
And together create one tone
Ringing out into what we don’t know
Harmonizing with other galaxies
Speeding along faster than what is imaginable
Screeching brakes slam
And finish the chorus
We launch bombs and they steady the ever charging, marching, base line
It's there
Always there
You don’t have to know about it,
You don’t even have to know your part
And you add the to speed
The eventually shattering speed
The eventually shattering speed that will increase and increase
And increase and increase
And increase
Until it reaches the end
And we don’t know what the encore is either
Which is okay
Because in the middle there will be silence.


Riley Welch

Monday, November 10, 2014

Gas-lit Stars

Streaking air bubbles cast themselves towards air
Looking for escape
Pulling itself up through the bitter sweet 
Reaching the top
Reflecting onto glass like stars streaking through the universe
Circling rings
Stretching across universes and passing through Suns and systems and spiraling past comets
Answering questions that we know will never be answered
Answering questions that we won't even know to ask
And someday that streaking reflection might show itself
Might tell us what it learned
But until then
It'll reach the top
Bursting through that bitter sweet
And surfacing to rejoin it's likeness
Or enemies. 

Riley Welch

Saturday, November 8, 2014


A shining blazing sun
Lights up the hot before evening but not afternoon
And cars with automatic lights 
Look out of place 
As they shine into already lit space
Blinding eyes by the sun and the streets
Looking into bright white LEDs 
And heat penetrates layers of jackets and the skin underneath lights up
Ablaze with sunlight
Beaming that hot almost evening but not afternoon. 

Riley welch

Friday, November 7, 2014

Favorite Fridays

In the Back of Reality


railroad yard in San Jose 
I wandered desolate 
in front of a tank factory 
and sat on a bench 
near the switchman's shack. 

A flower lay on the hay on 
the asphalt highway 
--the dread hay flower 
I thought--It had a 
brittle black stem and 
corolla of yellowish dirty 
spikes like Jesus' inchlong 
crown, and a soiled 
dry center cotton tuft 
like a used shaving brush 
that's been lying under 
the garage for a year. 

Yellow, yellow flower, and 
flower of industry, 
tough spiky ugly flower, 
flower nonetheless, 
with the form of the great yellow 
Rose in your brain! 
This is the flower of the World. 

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Stationary Static

With symmetry comes illusions
Like circular wheels
Turning so fast
You think they're standing still
And the road is just pulling itself up to keep the car going at the speed the dial tells it 
And the people behind them
Get caught up in the bunched up mess of the worlds spin
Like a bunched up rug the grip of your shoe can't grab
Or a wrinkled table cloth pulled quickly enough to leave dishes in place
Like that car
Standing still at 75 miles per hour along the road. 

Riley Welch

Monday, November 3, 2014

Word Search

I could drown in piled up words
Covering my head in a pit of jumbled letters
Humbling down my slang ridden speech
And punctuating every sentence I thought didn't need it.
I could drown in gags and suffocation 
Gasping an thrashing among serif 
And sans serif edges
Climbing up the edges of crisp Helvetia L's but I slip and topple into the dictionary sea underneath me
Trying to scream for help
But my tongue
Can't seem
To form
The words

Riley Welch

Saturday, November 1, 2014


I feel I wander aimlessly
I don't know what is next

I don't know what day it is
They all get jumbled up

Weekdays have no curfews
And weekends, early starts

I swirl cursive letters, neatly on receipts
And scrawl out notes in class
Like there is no need to read

I cannot focus on the next, just vague dates in the future
Weeks and months are blending

Together, drifting further and further.
Until my schedule realigns.

Riley Welch