Going + Poetry

Where you not go and how you would not get there. I think there’s this inherent sense of motion in a good poem, even if that motion is standing still you move around in a space. I think all of us naturally as people are going, we’re moving, we’re pushing, we’re maybe being forced with the momentum of time to take another step towards anything, known or unknown. Everything that has lead us to this moment will lead to the next and the next and the next and it’s as natural as the breath in our lungs. The idea of trying not to go somewhere, to avoid the trip in any capacity I don’t think can make sense. Whether we want it or not, we’re moving forward.

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You used to never cross Greenfield
then you met dad
then you’d never cross North Ave

You wouldn’t drive on the freeway
so between point A and point B
the only path was familiar side streets

You wouldn’t drive with the radio on
but when I was young
would take an art class and draw oranges

When I left for college
to the Southwest
we wouldn’t speak for a semester

Then the unimaginable
I would choose to move
to the worst place of all, California

You would tell me
”it would fall into the ocean”
and then I would move to Portland

Finally you would visit
but we cannot sit in silence
because you have to go home
a place that only you know