infinity on the way to English 378

i walked to class, and i looked at all the other people
walking to their classes with
backpacks ipods nikes uggs phones out hoods up
shuffling running smiling frowning
looking up looking down talking too loudly not talking at all
each thinking about their own life--

and what homework is due
what show is on later

the fight he just had
her gpa

the divorce

where to eat dinner

why he hasn't called

how much weight she wants to lose--

and I could not help but wonder in that moment

as life after life after life passed me

on that campus in a small town in a small state

in a big country in a very big world

(made tiny in comparison to an unbelievably huge universe

-and who knows what else beyond-)
i could not help but try to imagine

what the purpose and direction and point and joy

of my life would be if not to live for the God

who created the universe

(and whatever else lies beyond that)

and who also created the freckle in the middle of my palm

and the big tree we like to climb

and the way my sister laughs

and i felt small

but also filled with big sadness

for people who do not see there is an infinite bigness

and love to live for but

you have to widen your gaze farther than your own

tiny life-

and see the way the sun sets

and snow sparkles and how

puddles reflect neon lights

and rain drips off pine trees and the

way people really do give their lives

for the right thing and they

fight for justice and

understand the implications of a

forgiveness and love that has no conditions-

and then your life gets bigger

while you get smaller

and okay with being smaller because

you get that much more lost in Him.

William Carlos Williams Experiment

This is a poem by William Carlos Williams:

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

And this is my version (which my father thinks is quite hilarious. i was just writing quickly and this is what i came up with):

thought I’d say

that
I don’t want to leave

but you know that
after what happened
with the serving
spoons

we can’t both stay

here

we must dig and delve unceasingly

the cerulean sky hovered
tantalizingly close to the
blazing green hill
and the clouds on the shimmering
horizon sparkled and sparked with intensity
my eyes swam from the sheer
brightness of the landscape
i wanted to
reach out and trail my
fingers through the deep
vast blue and watch
the ripples roll to either
side of the sky.
when i squinted my swimming eyes
the colors ran together
like a Monet painting or a
rainy day
when the greens and blues
melt and slide into
blurred shapes and reflections
of what life was like
before the water.

Lines written in late spring, after you played me my favorite song on the guitar.

When you smile at me,
oh, I can’t bear it. I have to smile back
even if I am trying to play it cool.

Maybe it is cliché to talk about your smile.
or the fact that I can’t seem to pay attention
to anyone else
if you’re around.

But maybe the reason so many of these
thoughts I keep thinking are cliché
is not just because my thoughts
are trite and overused,
(however trite and overused they may be).

Maybe my thoughts are cliché
because there have been so many people
all around this world
who have felt this way about someone.
and there are only so many ways to describe that
butterflies in your stomach
walking on air
can’t seem to talk without
randomly having to say your name
feeling.

I just wish you didn’t have a girlfriend.

Revision: The View from Five Foot, Eleven Inches Tall

The tree in the front yard of my childhood home
doesn’t look as big as it used to.

In fact, I would be able to touch the big branch
I used to only dream of reaching
and I wouldn’t even have to stand on my tiptoes.

The world that seemed so full of wonder
doesn’t look as big as it used to, either.

As my I have grown, so has my
understanding that life doesn’t turn out
the way that you imagined it as a child.

But standing under this tree
in my old yard
under the same sun I stood under
so many years ago
I don’t feel that I’ve changed much at all.
I can feel the excitement of looking
up into the glorious blue sky
and knowing that if I reached the top
of the tree, I could
touch God’s fingertips with mine.

Trees keep you grounded.
They help you remain who you were.

Revision: The Best Kind of Laziness

The grass around my body is smooth and soft

it tickles the bare skin that touches it

my fingers and toes and elbows and ankles

feel the organic realness of this grass

I look up at the brilliant blue sky

there is one fluffy cloud

white, buoyant and happy

not lonely in its solitude

I resolve to watch this cloud

relentlessly, until I can't see it anymore

but relentlessly is a harsh word

to describe watching a cloud pass overhead

the way I watch it is more contentedly

and full of dreaming

and less like a watch dog or a prison guard

and more like the slow lapping of waves

on a quiet shore

or the soft whisper of the wind

through the screen of a porch

Revision: 4400 Deer View Road, Downstairs, On the Right

It wasn't exactly supposed to be a bedroom

It was probably intended to be more like

a small toyroom

a storage room

or a sitting room.

That's not to say I was mistreated.

although I never understood why

my twin sister

demanding her own room

meant me moving

down the hall

into the smaller room.

But after a while, I was glad I got the room

because it was my own.

It had one big picture window

that looked out onto the yard.

Of course, the window did start at ground level

so the only thing I saw was the dirt underneath

the deck.

It had just enough room to squeeze in

one trundle bed

one bureau

and one nightstand.

It went through a lot of themes.

Jungle first

complete with a potted palm tree

and neon green, high-gloss walls.

Then dragons

I am not sure why that ever happened

it was a boy's bedspread

black dragons with Asian script.

After that was Hawaiian

bright blues and greens

with hibiscus flowers.

During all of these stages,

the walls were covered in

band posters, movie posters

my favorite poems.

What made 14-year-old me me.

And then we moved.