Pale Blue
Coming of age in the
Backseat of your car--
Tucked in the corner of
Your studio apartment--
The back room of your
Mothers home.
I've lost and found you
More times than I can
Hold in my clenched fist.
Trapped in 3am and a
Text from you--
Watching these minutes
Grow to forests.
You don't cry the way
You used to, but you
Smell the same and your
Hair still makes a home in
My beard and pillows and
Shower. Shackled by the
Uncertainty of your intentions,
I love you so much that it
Breaks my heart.
Soft hands that tear
The words out of my throat,
Blue eyes filling my lungs
With saltwater and seaweed.
You kept me braided
Between your legs and arms.
Rescued from the rubble
Of my broken life,
Breathing life through
My nose and mouth.
My Heart Is Too Weak To Hold A Grudge, But For You, I'll Make An Exception
You said I moved like a movie star whose name you can't recall,
Sang like a windmill or time capsule.
I am no longer alive, just a memory you can't grab hold of.
Shaking at the sight of land or misery, I watch as you choke on your words.
Broken blood vessels call me back home to hills of winter's fever,
All of my friends looked like ghosts.
Everything means nothing to me, stored away in a violent storm or shotgun shell.
Everything means nothing to me, a lie I shouted to your bedpost and collarbone.
Warming myself in visions of a woman I'll never love as much as I hate myself,
I keep watch of the water in my shoes as I trudge
Through this snow-filled driveway and set fire to your home.
Waiting fourteen months for the dust to settle, just to hear you say my name once more.
La Renaissance D'une Montagne
I hung to you, the
Thirteenth of August,
The way you hung to
The Plateau and red
Plastic cups. Fixed
On solving you,
Rewriting the demented
History that lingered
In your closet.
Subtle and profound,
The first downpour
In twenty days and the
Sun dried soil I had
Become. Topple
My pedestal,
Crush this throne of
Arrogance. I am the
Beggar, withering and
Weak. Supplication
From your cistern,
Please make me green
Again.
Jordan Alan Brown is a poet and mixed media artist from Buffalo, NY. He explores the emotional depths of the human condition using his own experiences highlighting his vulnerability in pieces about family, faith, guilt, hopelessness, his desire to understand love, among other personal struggles. Incorporating original photographs with his writings adds another layer of honesty and emotion. Through the scope of mixed media, Jordan is able to capture, for a moment, the sensuality of feeling bare. Still, continuing to hone his craft, Jordan has been published in several online journals, as well as Buffalo Black Book. You can follow Jordan on Instagram; Manascactus, and Tumblr; Jordan-Alan-Brown.tumbler.com.