Cold July

A surprisingly unhappy poem I wrote last summer when I was surprisingly happy, shortly after I moved to SF.

Cold July

Fog trundles in all around
Closely packed buildings
Like cattle in a feed lot
Roosted on humpbacked hills
Disappear in the cloud
A ribbon of blue is visible
Due west, thinly veiled
Watch as it vanishes
The air weeps with gray
Like and infected wound
Swollen beyond recognition
Seagulls lunge in and out
Like the flies in this apartment
The swarms in the basement
I haven't seen the sun in days

—Adrienne McKay 2009

The Ocean and The Moon

A love poem/prose piece I wrote in 2008.

The Ocean and The Moon

The Ocean and the Moon
are very old friends
And they haven't seen each other
for a long time
Each misses the other dearly
For so near to her heart,
is the Moon to the Ocean,
that she reflects her more brightly
than any other can
And so dear is the Ocean
to the Moon
she'll never stray out of sight of her friend
Each pulls night and day,
asking the other to visit
But the moon has outgrown
the place the Ocean calls home
And the Ocean cannot be
separated from her foundation
How can two so different
be friends?
While one is held in a space
that shapes her
The other roams,
claiming her own form
One knows an unconquered
but desolate existence
The other sacrifices herself,
but is filled with richness
But each has scars
They understand each other
and give each other gifts
The Ocean paints pictures
on the land
And the Moon writes
poems in the sky
They are saddened
yet fulfilled by each other
They will continue to pull
to ask for a visit
Even though the Ocean sadly accepts
and the Moon knows it's true
that they will never embrace
The two friends will go on
loving each other
as long as the Moon can look down
upon beautiful paintings,
and the Ocean can read
beautiful poems
As long as the Moon
shines brightest upon the Ocean

—Adrienne McKay 2008

Erosion

A short poem I spontaneously wrote last year.

Erosion

Internal dance

Tango of blood and bone like river and stone

One must inevitably destroy the other
Outside, I lean out dangerously into space

And I see that the moon is over my head
No matter where I am
The cruel sandpaper of wind and rain
Takes the flesh of paint from crippled wood

The layers between me and this harsh world grow few
Now four layers stand alone
Skin, muscle, blood, and bone

—Adrienne McKay 2009