Copyright 2011 by Tyler Blangiardo
Letters & Trumpets
Smashwords Edition
This following is a collection of poetry and prose I wrote between 2000 and 2009. I have sorted through my old material and have selected the best pieces. Enjoy.
Romance
First
you're swept off your feet.
Then you're dropped on your head.
Untitled
[21
Apr 2005]
I
feel your fingers kiss the pool like a willow's every morning. Thus
begins the twilight of my consciousness.
I lie there in the
dream world from a bird's eye view, slumbering, chest rising and
falling to the hip-hop beat of angels and I'm dressed to the nines: a
dress with pearls. I'm lying on a sloped bed of tall grass that yawns
towards a pool. The pool is clear and broad and dark and nightmares
live beneath its surface.
I feel your fingers kiss the pool
like a willow's every morning.
Although the sensation is a few
minutes delayed, like the radio transmission between Earth and Mars,
I tremble when the ripples reach my toes. They hang limply in the
water, touching just the surface of the pond. We look out across the
vast placid surface and rub our eyes. We try to look for images but
see only mist. We think about each other.
You always rise
first however. Sometimes deprived of lingering dreams, you tiptoe
into reality, sometimes hopping backwards into bed. Whatever the
case, you always rise first. Maybe it's because you're a man and men
have a historical, inherent work ethic to get up early. Perhaps your
hearts rise with dawn, and you know it's time to strap on the
over-alls and get on out to the fields. Maybe... Maybe not. In any
case, you rise first.
And while your mind starts to whir, mine
slumbers for a little while
until the first tiny ripples reach my
toes, and suddenly, the cool rise and fall of water at my heels
becomes sensational enough to waken me, at first a smile and then two
eyes. Is it possible to sigh before one even wakes up? Well if it is,
then my family must hear a giant exhalation of relief sounding
through the hallways before I wake. I let the trickery of dreams
slide out with the breath of night and then I breathe in the cool
sweet reality of my circumstance: I have a you.