TIF

Today I had
a great idea
for a poem.
I knew it would
come together
so easily,
letter after letter*.

But I forgot
to write it
down.

So it left
my
brain
and thus
ceases to exist.

*On a similar note, how do you read footnoted asterisk? As a piece of the prose, or after it is over?

10/22/2015
Riley Welch

Angles

Smooth jazz,
with sharp beats
sounds so
so appealing.
it makes me turn the wheel
of my car
carefully
like the music -
but my heart beats sharp,
interrupting,
like the rhythm.

10/22/2015
Riley Welch

Mov't

And now
clanking chairs
and early ending classes,
sticky hot outsides,
water
condensing on windows
and damp socks,
broken pencil tips
and dried up
ballpoint pens,
tardy homework,
and A- test grades.
Repeat.

10/22/2015
Riley Welch

Easy

Tears come so easy
maybe I was made too soft.
Too happy
or too sad.

They come to the surface,
frustration,
anger,
I am a bad liar,
I am unable to hide
how I feel.
Even in the worst
situations.

10/18/2015
Riley Welch

An Ode to My Hair

I'm glad my hair
has grown out
long enough.

That it tickles
my elbows
when I swing on a backpack.

And it gets caught
under my arms
when they slam down
after a trip
across the monkey bars.

And I have to wash it,
so, so
much.

But I'm glad my hair
has grown out
so long.

8/27/2015
Riley Welch

Look

Look!
You can see the end now.
Finally stretched out
upon us!
The creeping edge.

Do we approach it?
Watch with guarded view.

The fall would be steep.
Carry yourself carefully.
As you step, feel the ground,
move truly, more truly,
beneath you.

Let your toes
steady themselves
along the edge.

Let your feet feel freedom
that you cannot.

9/22/2015
Riley Welch

Could it be?

I feel
as though
I am growing
more familiar
with this life.

I once
had to
think of my
writing hand
to remember the directions.
I now tell right and left
just by knowing.

9/16/2015
Riley Welch

Square Windows

I keep
putting off
putting words on
paper.
Then they get lost
in a deep twisted
nest of neurons.
They never come back the same.
Sometimes they rearrange.
And then I develop
deep confusion
at those words
I fell in love
with
absentmindedly,
while walking to class
or driving down the roads
slicked wet
with oil painted
car reflections.
I wish I had written sooner.
I wish my brain
was more of a filing cabinet
than a messy notebook - like this one.

9/21/2015
Riley Welch

BB

I can't believe it took a month.
Probably two.
Back to back
but, wow.
The improvement must be coming.
Somewhere.
and now it's 4 o'clock.
Somewhere.
And I'm still waiting.

9/21/2015
Riley Welch

A Solid Where

Sometimes
home feels like
defrosting after
leaving an air-condition-soaked coffee bar
at ten at night.

But other times
it feels like
lung shattering
crisp, icy
air.
Shocking your body
into alertness.

Often, other times,
it feels like gardens
and gardens
of bright yellow daffodils,
happy and overflowing.

Or old swimming pols
with torn up bottoms
that scratch up
your soft, wet toes.

9/9/2015
Riley Welch

9/7/2015

Whenever given a chore,
or task.
I picture it.
Clearly.
Lay it out before me: Here is what will be done.
Even if given a hard choice,
the correct one
can always be pictured.
Gleaming, a little brighter than the alternatives.
I always know what I will choose next.

The first time I could not
picture my future.
At least a little bit,
was my drivers test.
The April I was 16.
But I did take it,
and I passed it.
I drove that car,
and then,
after that.
My whole future blurred.
Things became less and less clear.

And nothing has been so absolute since.

9/7/2015
Riley Welch

Another Rewrite

An anchor set itself
in the pit of his
stomach.

Her words made him inhale
sharply.
She was the ship,
cutting through cold water.

The anchor caused a ripple
that sent goosebumps
to the outside of his skin.
They started at his spine
and made even -
patterned
bumps on his arm.

She spoke again
and he thought the ship
was changing directions.

But it was just setting down one more hook.

9/4/2015
Riley Welch

Everything

Everything
felt a little bit
cooler
than it had
when I went to sleep.
The night
calmed the Earth
and willed it
to forget the sun
maybe
just for a minute.
Because it always came back
and reminded you.

9/6/2015
Riley Welch

One Less

The numbness
sunk itself back.
At the base of
my neck.
My skull.
As close as I would
let it.
Without
Shoo-ing it away.
Like it were a pest
and not a feeling.
It wasn't one
I missed
when it was absent.
But
I didn't mind it
there either.
It let my brain
fold in on itself.
A time
for reflection. Thought.
Could it be, even silence?
Yes, even the pen forgets to move.

9/7/2015
Riley Welch

Wrong

I tried to loop
my 8 backwards.
If you practice,
and learn to do things
every which way,
you improve.
I think -
but the 8 was lopsided.
And then I realized,
September isn't the 8th month anyway.

9/4/2015
Riley Welch

The Bright Green Collection

Here is a poem for my Bright Green Notebook, a poem just as short as the time period I spent writing in it. 

You ended so quickly.
Too quickly.
I wonder which letters
I used most frequently.
Inked out.
On thin pages, sometimes it bled through.
My pen dried up too.
It's time to start
over.
Very fresh, very new.

9/16/2015
Riley Welch

Enough.

I can't  let things go.
It feels
sometimes
like sand slips
through my fingertips.

The sand
is a metaphor
for my sanity.
For my peace of mind.
Do you get it?
Is it clever?
Will it get published?
Am I good enough yet?
How can someone
who practices
so much,
not be good enough?

I never like to
release these thoughts.
Because I feel
like they dig my grave.

- like if I let an inkling
of this out,
it will over take me.
But now it feels
if I leave it
too,
too,
bottled up -
it will never leave me at all.
And it will taint my words,
with sick greed.
I am good enough,
I work hard enough,
I want it enough.
I
I
I
I.
-
That was a good release.

10/18/2015
Riley Welch

6 Totally Exhausted 6 Line Monday Thoghts

8:42 am
I hate following
behind people
in the early morning
who aren't in a panicked
speed-walking hurry,
like me.

10:54 am
I've been awake
for four hours
and ran all over campus
and made calls
and sent emails
but I've only made 25 bucks.

1:23 pm
I'm running
back and forth
in confusing
overlapping
circles.
The turtle pond felt shallow.

5:02 pm
Where
is the day,
it slipped away
and I sweat out
any anger at it's loss
in small, cold beads.

10:29 pm
Clean,
Fresh,
Cold.
Blue and red
and full of notes
This feels like work.

Riley Welch
8/31/2015

10/16/2015

How does
time
move
so slowly
every
now
and
then.

The few left
rotated
ever creaking
back and forth...
No.
Just forth.
A repeated circle,
beat after beat after beat.

10/16/2015
Riley Welch

An Ode to a Small Squirrel

This poem is dedicated to a small squirrel I accidentally hit with my car. I had never ran over an animal before, and it feels pretty awful. I thought the least I could do was write it some words. 

You darted back
across the street
too quick,
I had no time to swerve.
I listened close to a song on
the radio,
about two lovers,
dying together.
You had passed alone.
What a rough feeling -
I'm so sorry
bushy-tailed critter.

As I saw you off
in my rearview mirror
I felt sad for your small rodent body,
Big blue is just a body of metal,
who just couldn't stop.
And for that,
I am sorry.

10/19/2015
Riley Welch

pages

There is never silence.
I am never in silence.
When I do think I am in silence.
My ears ring.
And echo.
And make up pitter-patters that
do not even
exist.

Because my brain doesn't sleep
so my ears can never rest
in fear
it'll all
shut off.

10/14/2015
Riley Welch