First published poem of the academic year! Woop-woop!
There's a lot still on my mind. Not-so-random stuff for a person my age, I guess, but still... weird for me. I mean, I'm always nostalgic at the end of summer missing my Washington state buddies, but this is a weird combination of that and general senior-itis and... just teen angst, I guess. I hate saying 'I guess,' but I have nothing else to compare it to. Maybe I'm just going nuts. I always say that... maybe I'm just self-centered and schizotypal. No, that would be selfish of me...

Oh well. Enjoy the poem. Here's to... selfishness.

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Memento

And I graze on through the wooden halls of day-to-day
smoothing and catching splinters and fray and snag and
here's the part where I look at my hands. They are so
roughed-out and when they're cupped, it's like a bowl
or paddle of callous and cardboard feeling with pieces
of wood and rock and barnacle imbedded in the layers,
not dug out by tweezers or spoons or knives or teeth.
I leave them to work their own way out like a place
that I can't forget or a porcupine quill so hollow inside
and full of lessons and meaning and I'll never forget that
needle so grown into me poking and prodding it's way
out through my insides and making a channel in which
everything flows back to my thoughts.

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=== think about it ===