Epilogue

Epilogue

Things that come into your life too late

will never settle quite right with the others.

The dreams I have now take place more frequently

at my old house but

still I am myself, still I am like rainwater falling on

the cherry blossom tree that bloomed mid-spring,

but only for two or three weeks at a time.

Remembering feelings like colors:

synesthesia.

Remembering it differently than how it actually

happened: forgetfulness. Not dishonesty.

Not false truth.

I used to climb the rock behind my house

(I had always been afraid of falling)

in my sundress it was okay to feel slightly undone

(I had always been afraid of falling)

To be complete means that everything has an order

(to fall out of beat, to fall through the cracks)

and I learned this is a patience that could not be given;

you know the train is coming fast when you can

see its headlights through the snow-

this is a patience that I cannot be given.

There is Something outside

There is Something outside

In early May, I used to stand

on the branches of the cherry tree in our backyard

as if its limbs would bring me

closer to the sky, its buds just beginning to develop

into peeking infants.

Those soft pink pure petals were so beautiful that

I wanted to eat them;

in my mind they would snap between my teeth like

an edged breath

in the middle of a long sentence.

It would be satisfying to make something break.

From in my tree I could hear the television

blaring through the windows of the house:

loud noise to eclipse

the voices of my parents

as they yelled through the walls

about things I had not yet heard of.

I, being outside, was safe under the shade

of the beautiful monster tree that

grew like my big sister.

Always there to hold, to catch.

The soft pink pure clouds were breathlessly

painted upon the blue sky but

something seemed out of place;

this, however, was no bother.

My feet swung through dead

spring air, ready to catch me.

I wouldn’t have run away even

if I could.

Back…again!

Back…again!

Hello there!

I know, I know, I’ve been pretty MIA for a while. However, I am happy to say that my absence has been filled with lots and lots of great “life” things, including (but not limited to) graduations, birthdays, friends-coming-home, etc., etc.

I haven’t had much time to process all of these happenings, but now that it is finally summer vacation, I hope to have some time to really refine all of the thoughts that I have been experiencing these past few months.

~*bes

A Chronicle of Separation, Part II

A Chronicle of Separation, Part II

It seems to me that the clouds overhead

are prophesying a storm:

me, I imagine it won’t hurt.

Snow being only an experience,

less than substantial,

the guess is the only thing we can be sure of.

Outside the world seems peaceful in its neatness-

under the snow, the flowers, bugs, and grass

sleep and I suppose this

is how they deal with grief.

As for myself, the storm only affects touch.

Soft lights

Soft lights

this book you are about to write, dedicate it

to Me

call it Woman and Her Snow

and don’t skip the part where

the snow, when it sticks to her eyelashes

like flakes of white felt

is reminiscent of the time she threw

herself down in the snow in front of me

(the sky was dark with night and quiet)

and I kissed her freezing lips

and we lay on a snowbank by the road

our faces cold from the blizzard’s breath our

bodies like snow angels ;

a car whizzed by and snow collected on her eyelashes

like a memory being formed

this memory

Her eyes closing

I wish she dreams well

Hello, world!

Welcome! Let me introduce myself: my name is Bailey (nicknames include Bails, Bai, Baileyboo, etc). I am a college student studying writing and English, and I very much enjoy things of that same sort- reading, writing poetry, more reading, talking about books…you name it. This blog is chiefly for these interests, as you would guess! I hope to develop my voice and style with all forms of writing through collaborating with the online world, whether it be through direct feedback (on my work or your work!) or through passive blog-browsing (which, I have to say, I am already pretty professional at doing). I chiefly am interested in poetry, but that being said, my interest stretches through prose (both fiction and nonfiction). I would love to connect with fellow writers: give me a shout! Comment on my blog, or send me an email at baileysullivan41@gmail.com.

I am planning on posting my first (?!?!?!?) poetry-related blog post EVER, very shortly! I would love to have a conversation about anything, whether it be my writing, or the awful snow we’ve gotten on the East Coast this winter.

Hope to talk to you soon!

~*bes