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Snowy Day in the Child’s Empire, Pt.1

 

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For my dad

This book is intended to be a review of my childhood days. The poems in here have come through the mystical days before experience. Hopefully there is something to celebrate in these candid pages.

There isn’t any meaning except what you make of it. Let words construct a landscape that merges as one with dreams, songs, pictures, sensations. Please direct your own feeling into the array of words I have left you.

Can you do it? Read it having eliminated all guilt in response to expression, all traces of the frenzy of modern life? Perhaps none of us can. But maybe then it would be an even more capable instrument of reflection.

-T. Kingsley

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Untitled 1

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I feel alive. I feel alive. No barriers to inside. Take me home.

Take me to your abode. This careful rendering of my past is bound to dissipate and crash. It’s love.

Why don’t you talk? Your lips spoke lullabies to me. I will rock you in my arms and carry you to the morn. Just-please talk to me.

You were my favorite. Right from the start. I could hear you, heart to heart. Sparks in the sky. Time flies. I want to hold your hand. Rest your head by my side.

I met you yesterday. You were tending to the fire. In the dark. Couldn’t see you. Peered at me. A little furtively. Couldn’t tell if you really were.

That pain sang. No more could go wrong. When we were so young.

Stupid children. Divided boys and girls. Not meant to be close. Near. Not meant to know.

I want your ear. Lend me your ear. That is all I need. Let me bleed.

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Untitled 2

 

Sweet snow, falling from afar. High up in the sky. A kite flies.

It’s bad, how silent and empty you are. Words ought to be mean. Snow ought not to smile and gleam like that when there’s nothing to mean.

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Untitled 3

 

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I gaze outside the window. There’s nothing to read. Read your emotions to me.

On the steps, alone. A little cold, imagine yourself with no home. How great! How scary that would be!

I’m back, I’m back, I’m back. He takes my hand and we are gone.

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Lose myself to the leaves

Live long winds, blowing through the trees,

sweeping up me and my dreams to the top- to the canopy.

I want to soar. Spread my arms and take flight with you. Sounds of memories

ring across my ears. I’m here.

Take me, take me the child! A wind so rapturous,

so wild! Leaves the seasons blow passing thru.

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Deadskin

Swimming, swimming, to the bottom of the lake, what

mysteries will we arrive at? What golden auras we leave in our wake!

The sun is young and we are bright. Teaching us endless light.

There is some comfort in unchanging mutations. Some feeling of respite.

A dog comes paddling back, sun beams dancing on the supple water.

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Name

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I will make the world accept my multitudes, because my life is

not just a song or a fact.

I cannot help but be silent when I am good,

but when I cannot contain them I will reveal my beautiful thoughts.

Darling, I contain skies of trust and gardens of song and weapons of

laughter. I contain many dark rooms and bleak

prison cells and birds

that never flew against an autumn moon. I contain multitudes.