[Poetry] Human Nature: An Oxymoron

I had no idea what to title a thread for the entirety of my poetic work, so I went with the title of my honors thesis from undergrad (a poetry chapbook). Most of my poems have to do with nature and how we like to see ourselves as connected to it while being intrinsically detached from nature as a part of being human observers. From there, much of it is a meditation on consciousness, meaning, and actual humanity. I think.

Here's a sonnet I finished last night:


"It Settles"

We felt the winter moving through the air
but didn't feel it sink into our bones—
as by and by it settles into stones—
and yet it did. I can't recall just where

we were when I first felt that we were cold,
but I remember how you shivered even
in our bed beneath the blankets, even
under all my weight that you could hold,

insisting it was coming from within
your bones, deep down, and radiating out
to make your hand feel chilly in my own.

And now I've got the shivers, too. My skin
is cool with winter, chatters in my mouth,
as by and by it settles in a stone.


I'll post another poem for every comment I get. I imagine that will be easily manageable.

"clearing"

leaves
on
leaves'
backs
on
leaves'
backs
on
leaves'
backs
on
leaves'
backs
on
leaves'
backs
on
leaves'
backs

.

elegant novel
white sky

impenetrable
white

tangled branches
scattered

novel white
impenetrable
novel
white
white

.

leaves
on
white
leaves
on
white
leaves
on
white
leaves
on
white
leaves
on
white
leaves
on
white
leaves