Transcript:
this hair
ropes,
sings,
waves,
plays with the wind
and laughs
it is happy today,
i can feel it smiling, down the mountain range
of my spine, all hills or a tree
full of knots
my eyes are honey and sage and copper and
when they storm,
they become the exact shade of the earth
the forest
underneath a bruised sky and
when they water––they glow like
sunshine through meadows,
the kind with bees and butterflies
suck on honey, feed on nectar,
drink in
this gaze
there are scars
from lightning strikes
across my hips and my thighs and
these marks remind me
of canyons sometimes; millions of rivers
snaking across where the dirt opened itself
for a moment of perfect intimacy, an embrace
with the gods and goddesses of nature––
my love
may i have this dance
when i see foothills, they
are my stomach, gentle and solid,
warm, i see
pennsylvania in their curves, colorado
in their majestic infinity, california
in their occasional rigid nature, and most of all,
The alps in their striking
beauty,
and like any good mountain range, i need
another to fully appreciate them,
so love these rolls like an old friend,
love these rolls like i do
rivers in my scars,
so natural, so lovely
meander across time, show my history,
paint yourself next to the lightning
these scars are almost
like tree trunks, i see them
i do, i see them grow leaves and over the inscriptions
of temporary pain, you cannot mark this
as your own, i
i will grow from it
but despite all the land-like
monuments
in my features, there are stars in
every single one
of my birthmarks, my pockmarks, my freckles, my so-called imperfections
darling, darling, i swear you have never
looked more beautiful than when you did
with constellations spider-webbing your skin
stay interstellar, i beg you
and skin, oh skin, forgive me for
all those nights, punishment
and hatred, i only hope you will
allow me to friendship you, i only hope you will
laugh like reeds in the
breeze with me, i promise
to caress you often
and lovingly: no pinches, you are not
cheeks or ears of a lover; you are not lips
between my teeth; you are not glen or where
there is too much
to breathe
air
this body is interstellar,
body, forgive me
i am astronaut
body, forgive me
this body is interstellar
body,
forgive me
i am astronaut
body, forgive me
Author Bio:
Jack Snyder is a philosopher/poet finishing up his second year at Susquehanna. He spends his days writing and reading, frequently at the same time. On his off-time, he spends days in the wilderness, hiking and taking in the beauty of the natural world.