Trevor Abes: Writer

Tag: poems

Quitting Lasts Forever

Hanlan’s Point

Saturdays Are For Floating

Hale

Everything is Personal

There’s nothing personal about people 

Gatekeeping their lives

Even if you cried at their weddings

Looked after their cats

Shared meals at their tables

Because everything is personal

Like looking with your eyes

And sleeping when you’re tired

Axioms 

It’s what is called a universal lever

A free option you can call in

Soon as you find the strength to do yourself the favour

A lunch tray with aluminum and styrofoam in a quarter-full food court with a city view enhancing the podcast I’m listening to about teasing out patterns I don’t know I’m following

Turnaround

You don’t always have to choose the thinnest paperback

You can fan yourself out and play in caves where shadows don’t obfuscate the exit

You can see them again and prefer to save the effort of pushing through the crowd

Let the dog ears settle before you’re comfortable

With someone kissing on your mind again

The exchange rate from blinders to uninhibited senses is always favourable

Call that commitment instead

No more being stunned like cattle, the drive of genius displaced on people

Who will find the fine print in ride or die when it’s convenient

 

The View Between Your Fingers

I could tell 

All I’d get

Was the foyer of you 

Just kicks

Took each other home like reference only volumes

To maybe feel moved enough by something

To want more of it

Light particles changing costumes

Two verses translated as DNA

Holy water from a pipette

Applied with any style of prim

To feel rosy with a scientist’s trust in empirical evidence

Tops in time-capsule technology

Poetry with other consumable options

Besides quiet splendor 

Like ingestible glow 

Wearable sonorousness

Portable perspective

Draped over our particular frequencies 

Of being in the world

 

You Owe It All To Yourself

 

Respite

—Liked what you read? Grab a book.

Moving On

When the broken glass of life

Scrapes dead weight from parts of you

You still treasure, gathering the slivers

Is a short path to hypersensitivity 

As opposed to applauding the poetry

Of how long you’ve had your head down

Letting the unfairness nestle

Into the corners of your smile

And bloom into the tender sweetness of a heart

Whose open arms proved insufficient 

The music in your hips newly sprung by bae’s absence

Her face in every woman’s face regardless of age

Stop trying to stop seeing her everywhere

Stop beating yourself up for finding yourself asking

What do you mean what do I mean by love?

Years into thinking the answer was set in stone

Just steep in it and get familiar with how you are 

Too much food to finish for basically everyone

Until someone comes along happy to wrap you up

And save you for delectable exploratory unravelling

Which, for the record, is the opposite of cutting back

To compromise on the tenant between your eyes

—Liked what you read? Grab a book.

Just be Sure

 

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