Quote

Gilligan’s Soliloquy — Elan Mudrow

TV or not to TV, that is the question Whether ‘tis nobler for the stomach to suffer The future of outrageous coconut cream pies Or take bad dialogue from character actors And by opposing, end them, and get cancelled after three seasons To flee, to fly To be rescued? We say the end to The […]

via Gilligan’s Soliloquy — Elan Mudrow

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Sunday

I was born on a Monday,
Always first in line,
I wrote with a fine — pen
black letters,
on white paper,
black letters;

But watching uneven blocks
made me uneasy,
the way they
fitted together
like a row of houses
on the blue lines
that ran across my paper
blue lines
that tired to define
the borders of my mind;

But they should have known
I was born of the sea —
She was afraid of the deep
but there she dug
from dearth
the earth
found
on her own
volition —
Mama said
you are not
the victim of
condition —

So I step in the shower
and let the cool water run,
and there, I wash the weight of
yesterday — out of my hair,
down
the curve
of my spine
and watch it
stream away —

A release —
Silent peace —
To shed away
The pain of yesterday,
The pain in my chest
and in my mind
watch it all
fall
to
the
ground
leaving behind,
the memories of love,
and how I felt,
every moment —
— every minute —
every moment —
the feeling in it.

– the poem I wrote to myself when I chopped off my hair — on a Sunday

Goodbyes

My mum always says,
That sometime goodbyes are necessary;
Like when I was seven,
And she stopped holding my hand;
Not because she stopped loving me,
But because she resolutely believed
That the greater part of loving someone
Lies in the resilience you show
When you let them go.

– goodbye for now

Twenty-four

This is the year you turn
twenty-four;
the year you figure out
that
more
isn’t always
what we make it out
to be;
that sometime I wonder
if you ever think of me,
while lying in bed
a head full of stars
staring up at the
ceiling in the sky,

The year you learn that
you could fly
all this while
but had walked
instead,

But your feet have taken you
this far you feel
grounded — in
sanity is a crazy
thing to think that
we were born
of the same whom
that carried me,
after you
that we were
taught to love
by the same
heart that
broke mine.
And yet I find
the sound of
your voice like the
clarity
of windows
after rains,
windows
through the pain,
window
to twenty-four —
the year you figure out
that less may
sometimes
be more.

       – my brother turned twenty-four this year

 

Bodies Over Words

The bane of my existence lies in you.
Your
Alluring,
Stirring,
Blurring Blunder,
Thrown Under,
The Thrashing Assault of Your
Roaring Thunder —

Lost! Lost!
Can’t quite comprehend,
As certain, ascertain, understand,
Skin to skin,
No words in between —
What do you mean
When you say
You love me
With my mind
to
myself.

Explain to me
With words,
Why I continue to love
When you only give
Part of what I
Deserve.

But until I find the lines
That delineate —
My life —
From yours —
The chorus —
Of voices
In my head,
Choosing me instead
Finding life without
Your love —
Agreeable
Amenable
Everything I need
To fall away —
Skin to skin,
What do you mean
When there are no words
That separate us
in between.