In the irises, for all to see The strata of emotional geology The scars of fault lines since infancy. A web of fractures, the soul's fingerprint Tracing transgressions and fear and love and loss My catalogue of vulnerabilities.
Resilient I am, or so I am told As scars whisper stories that never grow old. I've run, I've hidden, I've covered, I've cried But better they are, shown to the outside That some fellow wanderer may also find In my soul's fingerprint, some quiet guide.
I was walking around Times Square in July. It was everything Times Square is + the withering heat of an unseasonably hot summer night. Nonetheless, I was captivated. In my mind, I was trying to reconcile why I enjoy this place while also pining for Lapland in January. The answer came in the form of a poem (!), which I scribbled on the receipt at left. I refined it a little more and then posted to an IG shot of Times Square. The current version is below.
Tundra January. Times Square July. Each an apogee of feeling, an axis in my mind. The crushing humanity, the heat, the neon might. The solace, the clarity, the cold, the expansive hues of light. Silver and uranium. Binary, celestial sights. Breathe in the elements of both so deeply to flood your lungs and rattle your veins. Inhale the elements of both so deeply, But promise me... You breathe out... Life.