Girl to World

What if I told you that I’ve crossed the border of forever,
And made it back, unscathed and undetected,
With a bulging sack full of looted time?
What if I told you that I don’t even need to hide
For the ogre sublime will never even know that it’s missing,
And wouldn’t even know who to follow, besides?
What if I told you there’s enough in this bag
To ground every pauper as prince,
Every princess as toad,
And every valid dream held hidden from soundness as indubitable?
Would you lend me your ear and your gut,
Or would you scoff at the thought of something so unphilosophical?
Would you permit me due process, burdening only the truth with itself,
Or would you bury me deep under your grounds
Alongside your hatchet, and without subsequent thought?
Well, before it comes to all that, take a quick look for yourself-
Let me prove it.

.

.

.

Copyright Keli Birchfield 2013

The Moon is Blue, Yet Quite Pleased with Itself

I’ve never met a reason good enough to make me want to wish away the moral heft resting itself upon my shoulders, and let fall into irreverence how it was that I began

Therefore, I happily continue upholding every last resting promise made in the name of deep-rooted value, despite conflicting self-interest,

So that all of my selves, no matter how lowly, may inter-subjectively thrive

For of all the worlds collectively creating girth behind my clavicles, there is but one event which defines my horizons

And the totality of my history only requires the maintenance of this one classic structure in order for my growing perspectives to gain essence

So why on earth would I betray pure love, in the name of the empty space which surrounds?

.

.

Copyright Keli Birchfield 2013

Hoard Mentality

An end can wait
For I cannot begin until I’m finished waiting
The utter calm of enraptured capture still yet feeds upon my resolve
Once fulfilled, well rested time will spill over
And onto my grounds
So that entropy may dissolve this moment for me,
So that I need not lift a single finger towards hastily contrived covenants
With long-dead prophets of keepsakes and chivalry;
So that I need not take responsibility for how it is
That I wade about my premises,
Waist-deep, through layers upon layers of my own spoiled memories
In search of the hope heaped beneath these piles

.