Vanee

Photo by Vanee

At 9:15pm
the sky is midnight.
I wonder if the hue
I perceive
of dusk-darkened leaves
is really just a color memory
trick of my brain.

I threw hasty words
over my shoulder
before heading out
of the stiff white walls
into the invisible
air moving the grass
to whisper.

It didn’t rain.
I wish it would.
My eyes pull water
from the well
of my shadow story
and I am washed away
until i am renewed.

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Photo by Vanee

I savor their repose
in dusty darkness, before
lifting their window shade to
partner with the light

inviting them to the good
morning, while wondering
if it will be, once they slide
out of covers into roles.

The sound of drawers
moving in and out to
find the favorite
shirt and a…

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Let yourself
arrive.
For
whether
you prefer it,
you are
here.

Here, invite
the mind
to stay.
Steer wanderlust
to places
touched
now.

Now,
if perpetually
snubbed,
eventually
invoices
ever-lookers
elsewhere.

Elsewhere is not
to be
feared
or enshrined.
Life is meant
to be
attended.

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Photo by Vanee

The orange air brushes crisp
fallen leaves past blooming
marigolds into the path where
my steps through quivering layers
make a cacophonous
declaration: it is autumn.

How strange that all this
flamboyant decay can envelop
me in hope with reminders that
beauty is as real as death.

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Photo by Vanee

Did you know that
things don’t disappear
when you throw them away?
Nor people either.
Yes, out of sight
out of mind. I know
I used to live
that way too.
Consuming time without
savoring it. Discarding
relationships without
mending them.
Click-n-ship
party-in-a-bag,
easy open,
seasonal designs,
new, new, new,
more for me.
See me in the tropics.
See me on a glacier.
See me on a mountaintop.
See me looking
blissfully ignorant of the wake
of suffering I’m causing.
Not a minute to pause
our navel-gazing
to give more than we take
or clip our six-pack rings
to save the dolphins.
No worries.
All good.
You do you.
Every little thing’s
gonna be
alright.

--

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Photo by Vanee

The rain slapped all over us
as we ran to the car.
It felt fun until it felt relentless.
We smiled real smiles, which turned
into instinctive laughing, like when
you’re being tickled but
don’t want to be anymore, or
someone’s told a joke in a group
at your expense.

Still, it felt special and important.
In our dry state
we long for rain
even when it floods in a flash
and dents roofs and insurance claims.
We stood under the hatch of our car
as we shuttled in wet groceries
and my new planner —
wet through.

I took the back roads home
so I could hydroplane into fields
instead of other cars.
I thought of the farmers, like
my sons’ father, gambling
on the weather
who’d just cut their hay
for bales that wouldn’t pay
the bills anymore.

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Vanee

Vanee

Artist (Vanee.ink) / Musician (VNE) / Writer in Boulder, CO.