Words – So It Goes

Again, I

Published on October 21, 2023 by ARisoLeave a comment

I wish I was
as oblivious as the woman
driving in front of me,
who has had her right blinker on
for three miles.

I wish I was
as peaceful as a church
at night.
No righteous to tell me I’m wrong.
No saints to pray for my sins.

I wish I was
better at all of this —
the thing we call life.

I bite my nails when bored,
and I light candles to feel less alone.

Have you ever watched
flames dance, shadows on the wall?
I pretend each is a different ghost,
with their own story to tell.

I’ve got another year under my belt,
but I keep making new notches
for the buckle to fasten.

Sometimes I feel like I’m shrinking
as everything else gets so much bigger.

I never imagined making it this far,
and yet, I’m grateful to be where I am.

I’ve been thinking about you
and how you would understand these thoughts
of mine, without question.

You’d nod, dropping your gaze
just enough to appear as if in prayer.

I hope you’re doing well.
From what I gather, you are.

I’m happy our paths crossed
when they did, and I hope they
continue to as we zigzag through
this maze of truths and fiction.

My poorly woven basket

Published on August 28, 2023 by ARisoLeave a comment

I told a friend about you,
and you as well.

She related, telling stories
of faceless people.

I leaned into her words,
finding parallels to my story
and tracing the circular elements.

Halfway through she made a good point.

She said we have
poorly woven baskets,
not prepared for all of the eggs
we might carry.

My basket is generally fine,
though a bit too small
for everything I feel about you.

It’s missing a few sticks,
making it easy for eggs
to fall out, and
the bottom sags a little
from the time I
left it in the rain.

As she shared,
we are not well-prepared,
well-adjusted for all of *this,*

cramming eggs into a basket
not fit to hold them.

I am so desperate, it seems,
to feel everything and to
not let go.

If I had more baskets,
perhaps I would know what to do,
maybe I could move forward,

but alas,
there’s just the one,
labeled “you,”
overflowing with eggs.

From another time

Published on June 28, 2023 by ARisoLeave a comment

The birds sang so sweetly
outside my window
that evening.

It was as if they knew,
felt, my shifting pain.

Their songs were nothing
like the early morning tweets
or harsh afternoon calls.

Their music carried lightly
across the sky,
like a helium balloon caught
in the breeze.

I stared into the mass of
bamboo stalks and vines,
feeling tears roll down as
I looked for the birds.

I wish I could change things
from the last few months.

If only we could have listened
to those birds together and
talk about the magic of everyday things.

But you don’t believe in magic,
living in a world so black and white
one becomes dizzy of its
ever-changing parts.

I know the twinkle I saw
everytime our eyes met was real,
and that the fluttery, happy gut feeling
was real too.

I would call those moments magic —
something special —
but I know you’d call them ordinary.

You, sometimes

Published on June 28, 2023June 29, 2023 by ARiso1 Comment

I still think of us,
together,
sometimes.

It’s never much,
just fleeting thoughts
of what I’d tell you
in certain moments.

I used to think
you could read my mind —
as if my face was covered
in unspoken words.

I miss seeing
your lips quirk
and that playfulness
light up your eyes.

I wonder if you ever think of me
at the exact time I think of you.

Maybe you don’t think of me anymore,
but I’d like to think that there’s an invisible thread
connecting us, and if I only was able to tug on it,
you’d know you’re on my mind.

My sunspot

Published on February 25, 2023 by ARisoLeave a comment

I could hear the trees creaking.

I could hear the trees creaking
as your breathing slowed,
and I fell asleep
to the peaceful mixture.

I dreamed of nymphs,
nimble and wiry,
dancing and singing
in the windy night.

When the sun peeked
through the blinds
the next morning,
she reminded me
of everything.

She made me wonder
if you were sunshine
in human form.

You are fiery and blinding,
yet warm against my skin.

Like when using a weighted blanket,
I am equal parts comforted and nervous.

It’s scary and confusing
to embark on this path
with so many unknowns or
unvoiced thoughts.

But it’s warm here,
with my sunspot.

Maybe the light that’s
bursting from my chest
sees the light
tucked away in you.

Body language

Published on February 5, 2023February 5, 2023 by ARisoLeave a comment

If you were to cut me open,
bleed me until my lips turned blue,
you’d find only words
pouring from the gash.

My blood has grown thick
with adverbs and dependent clauses,
muddled by you
and I and what-if.

I wish these words
would tattoo my body,
an ever-changing sea
of my heart and soul.

It’s nerve-wracking to share
those things I keep
tucked inside.

My legs and arms shake
in anticipation,
not sure whether to run
or reach out.

If you found me,
words spilling onto the carpet
in a mess of red,
would you take the time
to read them?

Would you scoop them up,
gently, and return them
to my open arms,
grown tired from holding
back the tide?

As I fade in and out,
two words
bubble to the surface.

____ and ___

mark my final moment.

practicing life

Published on January 1, 2023 by ARiso1 Comment

Our chemical hearts.
Yours. Mine.
Theirs.

Organs thumping
again and again,
unabashed.

I wrote a story recently,
one about a man
who saved a woman by CPR.

He pressed
and pressed and pressed
and pressed.

She faded in
and out. Her pulse unsure
about this world and
tempted by the next.

He pressed
and pressed and pressed,
again.

She lived
and lived and lived
and lived.

I can feel my own heart now,
steady, unchanging.
2022 tested the limits of it,
as 2021 did before,
and all those formidable years before.

I lived in limbo,
fading in and out
as the world spun
all too quickly.

I lived and lived
and lived.

Looking back,
I’m not entirely sure how,
but boy am I glad I did.

If the act of writing was violent,
I wrote until I nearly bled out,
stumbling with my head
stuck in the clouds.

I hid in a trench so deep
no one could dig me out.

I laughed and cried,
neither emotion coordinating
with their usual expression.

I was we, for a short period.
A whirlwind.

I finished the longest
and shortest period of my life.

I broke.
Then was sutured.

I drove and drove
and drove,
finding serenity within the trees
and nearly passing out
in the Oklahoma sun.

I made use of my brain to hand
connections,
writing for more than myself.

I’m not sure what to expect
for next year.

My guards are up,
like the gutter bumpers
in bowling.

I want for so much,
but most of all,
I wish for a kinder sea
for me and you.

A Rhythmless Body

Published on December 29, 2022December 29, 2022 by ARisoLeave a comment

What holds my body together?

Is it sinew,
binding muscle to bone
and bone to bone
so I can move in
sporadic directions
with assumed grace?

Is it glue,
globby and messy
as I pour more on
to keep my posture
upright right
and mouth from
curling down?

Is it an invisible hand,
like that of a master puppeteer,
pulling my strings
so I dance along,
a marionette without music?

Is it magic?

My legs feel heavy
and my arms stiff.
I’m moving without recognition.
Even now, I type
these words but feel disconnected.

How does my index finger know
where to go?
Why do I keep typing s instead of a?

I know when someone loses a toe,
their balance is thrown off.
I wonder if something similar happens
with a lost finger.

Perhaps I would type as if my
ghost appendage still existed,
skipping letters in easy words
as my body and brain
tried to reconnect.

We are all just neurons, right?
Neurons firing away constantly
as we try to process every sight
and sound and bodily movement
so seamlessly,
it feels like something more.

It’s been a while

Published on December 26, 2022 by ARisoLeave a comment

Queue the Staind song
that plays in my head
everytime I use or hear that phrase.

What’s the next line?
I always forget it.

Oh yeah,
“since I could hold
my head up high.”

I remember singing it
as a child,
naive to the meanings.

Now,
I reflect on it,
as I do with all the songs
I listen to.
I keep thinking that I
stumble upon a song for a reason,
that the lyrics somehow
hold some significance
in my life.

I was thinking about a
Stone Temple Pilots song earlier,
something about the days of the week
and losing someone.

I can’t help but sink into that feeling.
It’s easier than pulling myself up.

I can’t help but smile at the pain,
reminding me of everything,
everything.

I wish for those restful nights
I once felt,
in that funny suite
with the tiny bed.

I also wish to pour my heart out
to someone —
to let them see my layers of grey
and the smidges of blue and yellow.

But tonight,
I’ll curl up alone
as I wait for sleep to come.