Vagabond

everything is fine
until the quiet moments, when the
thoughts come out from their hiding places
and they are saying, "this is
not your bed, not any longer.
this is not your home anymore,"
and i heard a saying
that "absence makes the heart grow fonder"
but i ignore
all of that. there's a part of me
that wants to feel guilty
because it's funny- i don't mind
where i am so much, as long as i'm
having a good time.







New self-discovery-
Being a vagabond doesn't sound so bad, at the moment.
One of my friends said something like, "I get a little afraid every time I get into the car and start driving, because I get this feeling like I'll just keep on going." And I kinda thought to myself, "If that ever ends up happening, I want to be in the car."

Wandered

ninteteen years of history, of stability,
of being rooted as a tree to a single state, a single city.
years of slightly changed sameness, testing
of boundaries and stretching
out against elastic chains. ohio, ohio!
my blood sings with your soil and a piece of
the massing "us" that fill your streets,
one unit of the "we"
that belong to this state.

but now, but now!
it feels as if the sky has been called down
sometimes, the weight of nineteen
years crashing and crushing and breaking,
breaking against me and against those boundaries
until we are bursting from them, shattering
and unleashed and free. free
from comfort, from physical assurance, from easy
words or a similar timezone, even.
free, free! the beast of me howls joy
fierce, freedom! while a part of me weeps
for the ground that is the same but
different, so different.






I finally put words into this feeling I had, when I got picked up from the airport & was being driven to my new home.
This one kinda came in bits and pieces- I would write a few lines one day, then switch them around, then write a few more a couple of days after that. And so on, until now. I'm not quite sure it's done, but... Oh well.