Christine Austin Cole Poems

For better or worse
We become accustomed
To our lives.
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'Everything that happens where we live happens in us. Everything that ceases in what we see ceases in us. Everything that has been, if we saw it when it was, was taken from us when it went away. The office boy left today.'
~Fernando Pessoa
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In that moment
When awareness collided
With recollection -
The thunderous sound of dust
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The dirt embedded beneath my fingernails -
so perfectly, so fully now,
[I could grow things there
but for the lack of sunlight]–
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It occurs to me now
That all that remains unseen,
Unheard, unfelt, unknown to us
Does not do so for its elusiveness -
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I’m well aware that they are laying poems
out on slabs these days – dissecting them –
dropping their heart, their mind, their guts
into little dishes and putting their cells under
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They’re fighting again -
disrespect and indifference woven into their raised voices,
fury and famish lighting their four eyes, their two and two.
There is no sanctuary that exists between them now,
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I am every bit a dragonfly today
feeding on fleeting days,
the crisp fall air
turning my stomach,
...

I want a poem that I can live in without
the barking dogs of dissatisfaction and
disillusion disrupting the otherwise peaceful
afternoon of it. I want to create that other-place
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'For spring had entered the capital
Walking on gigantic feet.
The smell of witch hazel indoors
Changed to narcissus in the street.'
...