Everyday: The Poet

everyday

the poet

Hi, friends!

I've been on a trip recently so sorry for the lack of posts, but we are easing back into the blogging world today with another poetry post from Caleb Alexander! 

We all know how much I love how the man writes, so without going on about it anymore let's dive in head first!

Don't forget to check the bottom of the post for all of his information!!

Also, be sure to stay tuned in for some exciting upcoming posts!

“Watching Aeries Drink Water In a Piscean Stream”

I read an interesting factoid one time about certain types of Rams

They will fight so stubbornly for what they want

That they will break off hooves in the ground and keep coming back for more fight

With bloody feet and broken ankles

It’s kind of noble

In a visceral sort of way

There are beginnings and endings to all my favorite stories 

Things left unsaid

Tongues hold secret gardens

And I will hold mine

Against your skin 

My stomach flips on airplane descents 

My head aches because I don't deal with (air) pressure well

The tongue wants to say,

“You're everything I didn't know existed in myself”

“I will be cool water to dip your fiery soul beneath 

I will be the melted snow of spring

Running in dirty convalescence down cracked sidewalk gutters

Waiting in puddles for your galoshes 

To splash me open and sneak ripples into my calm waters

I will be class 5 Rapids

Running violently through the shakes of your body

As I press my lips to your neck

My skin to your skin

Let me run clear spring water over your smooth stones

I won’t make you move, just slide around you like an electric blanket

I will watch you bound lightly up mountains

Horns curved atop your head

And wait lightly for you to sip me 

Like you could drink an entire ocean 

Like you can't be satiated by any other stream

And I will rehydrate you 

Bring me up to your parched lips 

In cupped hands with red fingernails 

Reaching into me like raindrops on spring orchid buds 

Like blindly sweeping fingers on the top shelf of the cupboard

Where you know something sweet is waiting, even though you can't see it 

You just feel for it until you can hold it again”

But the tongue runs between your lips

Knows it has other jobs to do

-Caleb Alexander

“Count backwards from 10. ‘What is 10? Numbers are liars’” 

 Your head is a shape-shifter

Backwards baseball cap-

Gun in your father’s holster

I don’t know you

Any better than I know myself

Damn when did it get so 

Cold shivers run from the base of my cerebrum 

“I’ve heard LSD sometimes sits in your spinal cord,

Reanimates itself at random futures”

“You’re always listening to that depressing music” 

You or the devil retorted to my panic.

And I don’t want to go to the imagined hell of Southern Baptist reveren(ce)ds 

I squeezed your dog for warmth

‘Til he yelped with empathetic fear.

“We can’t call 911, then we are all screwed, 

Just sit

By the fire, and shut up

You know I’m on house arrest.”

The framerate of my eyes are laggy

Pieceofshit components

Lazy manufacturer 

Sound not matching picture

Like kung-fu

When I look at the sky I see mostly darkness

With scattered lights trying to illuminate

Blank space and time 

Kaleidoscopic

But the darkness remains

What is my constitution? 

What is unalien? 

Able?

I’ve got knocking on every door of my perception

By demons and angels and Sylvia Plath

And the voice I heard clearest sounded like my father

Or my grandfather in a straight jacket

(To the ceiling to look underneath the hood)

I’ve got an eternity to figure out time

And place and how they are the same thing

The empression (sic) I’m left with is just 

Jazz records 

On vinyl

While my sister absent-mindedly picks at her DNA with stubby fingers

Like avoiding cheeseless nachos 

From a haphazard concession

“What do you hope to discover?”

I want to know

What remains when entrophy reaches zero.

-Caleb Alexander

social media information

Caleb: Instagram- calexander17

Tumblr- eventherain17

***You can also find him reading his work most Sunday nights at Coffee Underground in Downtown Greenville, South Carolina at 7:30 pm***

Everyday: The Poet

everyday

the poet



Hello my lovely poetry reading pals. 
Today I have something different to bring you guys and I'm really excited about it. 
The Sir in the picture above goes by the name of Caleb Alexander.
He writes. And he writes well. And since he writes well I wanted to share a few of his poems with you.
About once a month I'm going to post for you all a few of his poems so you have a chance to read the marvelous work this guy produces. For this first post there are going to be three of his pieces so you all can get a feel for how he writes, but I think from now on I might just do one a post. Who knows; we'll see where these posts go!
I find inspiration in his work a lot and he is ultimately the one that inspired and encouraged me to write more than I do. I'm hoping the same goes for you all when you read what he has to say.

Stay tuned until the end of the post to find out his social media information and all that jazz. 
Let's get right to it!

"Because there is irony in being a writer and environmentalist"

I want to grow a tree out of my chest
Gnarled roots as veins, ventricles
I want to brew my coffee with soil
French press
Not those cheap drip machines
I want to bear fruit
That children suck between teeth
When they take a 5 minute break
From playing hide and seek
(or at least the seeker does)
I want you to build a home in me
With leafs and twigs and broken things
I want you to feel secure
On starry nights
Or when the storms threaten to topple me over
'Cause baby I won't break
Won't be destroyed by happenstance
And when this is done,
You can chop me down
Count the rings and stories I made for myself
And for you 
Pour the sap in syrup bottles
So you have something sweet with your breakfast
Build foundations with me
And let every knot that splinters your front porch
Every imperfection
Be understood in the way only you can
You can knock on me to ward off bad luck
And I'll always be your cool shade in summer
-Caleb Alexander

"Watering a garden beside a red wheelbarrow"

Porcelain teeth 
Wonderland cats
What you focus on is different than what is important
Quirky hats with eyes and ears
Jackets with zipper faces
All ask for affection from their tattooed mothers
And the best of them willfully obliges

I like the way you twist clear strings around finger
Bones in an attempt to control
Poignant characters in bland non-fiction

Even perfect pastels are cheapened versions of the standard
I've seen you speak fantastic color wheel
Conversations at a dinner party
On a Friday night in the middle of June
I smoked a pipe for the first time once

The more I stare the more sepia you become
Then you're Ansel Adams
And so am I

And the most beautiful black and white photograph I ever saw
Was you running toward the phosphorescent prisms
Created by a front-yard sprinkler
On a Sunday morning at the end of August
-Caleb Alexander

"Gemini nebulae and blood moons"

Tracing backs of knuckles
Like rubbing thumbs in a church pew
Silly stories about stomach cave dwellers
This pillow talk is existential.
Cloud mountain ranges from plane windows 
Dream images of your face while a kid kicks my chair
(And even the weather knows we are apart now).
Horoscopic
Like something aligned stars today
(We are just beings of light thrust in frail frames). 
I wonder if we came from the same star explosion
Mingled together before humans had even evolved
A false sense of consciousness. 
And now
Because light travels fast and hard
Like my heart rate as I come back for one more kiss
Just one more kiss
Just need one more kiss
-Caleb Alexander


social media information

Caleb: Instagram- calexander17
Tumblr- eventherain17
***You can also find him reading his work most Sunday nights at Coffee Underground in Downtown Greenville, South Carolina at 7:30 pm***