(OBJECTIVE CORRELATIVE)

The crisp leaves crunch under my feet
as I walk down the tree enclosed trail.
The sun lightly grazes the tops of the oaks,
gently falling between orange and red leaves.
I walk down the path stepping over twigs.
With every deep breath, I intake the calming autumn scents;
spices of dry leaves fill my heart to its content.
Clouds slowly pass above as the wind gently slips past me,
carrying small dandelion seeds and white puffs of cotton.
The yellow light dimly seeps around me,
holding me tight and warming me from the inside out.

REVIVED

The ice is clean and the air is cold.
I can feel the wind flow across my pink cheeks.
My blades melt the ice as I glide across it -
finally, I am free, I can breathe. I am alive.

I can feel the wind flow across my pink cheeks
as I skate faster and faster.
Finally, I am free. I can breathe, I am alive.
Nothing can keep me from victory.

As I skate faster and faster,
my legs start to burn. I don’t notice at first.
Nothing can keep me from victory,
I can only feel my beating heart -

this is all I have to skate with.
My heart is a container that holds everything -
My passion, love and strength lie within it.
I can only feel that beating heart

and don’t know how I remember the next step.
I don’t lead with my mind; fervor takes control.
My passion, love and strength lie within
the blades on my feet.

Holding on tight to these new emotions,
the ice is clean and the air is cool.
My heart beats violently inside my chest -
finally, I am free. I can breathe. I am alive.

AFTER FRANK O’HARA

It’s 2:49 and I wander about the cement sidewalks,

passing briefcases and stilettos with red lipstick.

Stench of exhaust, hairspray, yells from across streets

at yellow taxi cabs and lazy pedestrians infuses the air.

3:52 I stop at a corner coffee shop to get an iced venti six shot 2/3 half-caf.

I sip it slowly as I watch the chaos outside on the hotdog-ridden streets.

Thinking about the underworld, trains shoot from one track to another

blowing homeless cardboard and newspapers around in the black burrow.

Slurping down my last sip of coffee, whipping the whip cream mustache of my face,

I take my second steps out into the animal’s fanatical ruthless forest.

I walk close to the buildings as to not get stampeded when I make my entrance.

4:17 the late day starts to creep in slowly above my head—soon it will be down by my feet.

Looking up at the dusky sky I see the first stars of the night, wait, never mind it’s just a plane.

Folding in and out between skyscrapers and angels they glide gently between soft clouds.

Walking through steam from the underworld, its only escape the rat-ridden gutters,

rounding right corners, walking into people rushing home—“You’re not excused,” I want to say

but I don’t. I’ve walked more than 50 blocks it seems. I don’t stop to turn home. “TAXI,”

I scream. “Where to?”, the driver asks.