October Sky

Yellow dashed lines blur into one
solid and slithering serpent
unwinding in front of me with a speed
and an efficiency
I can't quite comprehend
- unwinding how
- unwinding where
I don't know.
Foot heavy pedal pressure
lean in
lean in
and skuttle across the moraine's trees
red and orange and yellow and brown
and some
an indignant green.
The sky above them
menacing and a million shades of grey
- in the brisk October wind it moves
and moves
and draws me in
encapsulated by the
chagrin and overwhelming
sadness
weighing down on my chest.
My glass pane headache beats
to some old
Neil Young song
about the Southern man, as
the wistfulness
of this October sky
grazes my cheek with
its deft palm,
and I fall under the spell again
of the dashed yellow lines
cavalier
against the black tar road
- unwinding how
- unwinding where
I don't know.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007.

Simple Math

GAH! So little writing done lately....so little motivation! Meh....

Simple Math

I am composed of 1/5
truth and
conviction,
and 4/5 confusion and
coffee.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007.

Thunderstorm Eyes

His eyes are storm clouds
darkening
with the passing seconds
She doesn't want to count.
Eyes
waiting to unleash
their fury
upon her
face
arms
chest.
His eyes -
his thunderstorm eyes
are more him than he'd
like to believe
and he rains
he rains
he rains down upon her.
Filling, brimming
the eye-clouds
stagger and devastate
with no visible
silver lining.
His eyes -
his thunderstorm eyes
are more him than he'd
like to believe
and he reigns
he reigns
he reigns over her.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007

Marble bench

marble bench
cooled by the night air
quiet and alone
you feel nothing
for you've been
forged from stone
but I can feel
and am chilled
to the bone.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007

Untitled

I write poems
on old, crumpled receipts
and movie stubs
that I happen upon
in my purse
because it suits me to do so
and because
I find it authentic
and romantic
in a fleeting sort of way

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007

Dancers

Above me, the dancing
ladies ascend toward
the pallid light -
leaping,
dipping,
twirling and
whirling.
I catch only glimpses
of their movement,
but I stare -
transfixed -
waiting for one more
glance of these lucid
charmers
and their shimmering
skirts of
silver and grey.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007.

Kuusasi's Secrets

Alone but content
with only his thoughts for company
he keeps his secrets hidden
behind his eyes
within himself
safe inside his world

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007.