Thick fog
muffling street lights,
confusing shadows,
smoothing edges.
Silent stretch of phantom arms,
damp embrace.
Smothering distance
veiled:
harsh city vanishes.
As wondrous as it is eerie.
****** into its vacume of nothingness.
Spellbound.

I remember my younger days
Were the ashes of fire grew higher
Crowds and streets with empty praise
If they practice truth in the mirror, they´re a liar

I remember the iron curtain
Blocking any ray of sun
When crazy mind´s were the only sane
and you could´t trust anyone

I remember childhood dreams
That died for each year that I grew
A time when ends justified the means
and what joy meant no one knew

I remember beliefs forced upon me
Until I was convinced they were my own
When being a alive was the same as being free
Feeling unsafe under the roof of my home

I remember the color red
On the ground and on the flag
I remember the tears I shed
When I lost the few good things I had

I remember being scared
To sell my soul by mistake
To become like the people I feared
and not realize until it was too late

I remember a foreign earth
Across borders, beyond the wall
Where no one decided what a life was worth
I remember waiting for the barricade to fall

I remember my younger days
Memories burned into my mind
I remember the crowds and streets of heavy praise
When the fog lifted in 1989



«Copyright Johanna Magdalena Husebye»

few things can calm me - the wrawl in the rain
chasse on the glasses, soirée on the pane
atoms of home - blood & bone - body's wane (and they're)
falling in ribbons of pewter so plain

fog laying softly, the wafting unterse
soundlessly haunting the grounds by its curse
ripples on crystalline mirrors disperse (in the)
capable hands of the watersong verse

nubes - replace the azure with the grey
bouncing the pavement with vestige of play
spirit in footfall, the speckled ballet (for the)
ruse to confuse sprightly night with the day

few things can calm me - the wrawl in the rain
please, weeping clouds, keep the crazy ones sane!
and as you slow down, i'll pray you regain (all your)
previous sorrow so we'll feel the same

A million leaves rotate in a slow spiral to the ground already littered with the colors of autumn
the creek, frigid even in summer, flows as quickly, quietly as possible down to a creek larger in size, to a river, to the ocean eventually taking every laugh and tear with it
every summer from since ages before I was born i have been there generations laughed and cried and fell in love upon that creek, next to the campsite
Lot 47 was just a lot, it was wider, had bigger trees but it is just a site
a site where my grandparents loved each other more than life itself, where my dad laughed harder than he ever did at home, where mom learned to cook, where i got the scar on my ankle, where our names are illegally carved in the trees

where i learned to build a fire, hiked for miles, saw baby elk up close, fawns and bears.
Smokemont is just a place, a place of happiness and love and nostalgia of family and friends and a sense of forever
it is a place i will never go again but whenever i close my eyes and reach for peace it is the place i end up
with the smell of nanny's chili at dusk and coffee early in the cold humid mornings where mist rises off the creek like a magical fog seducing us in solitude and a quiet joy. The marshmallows roasted to a golden-y perfection every single night with Poppy telling stories and nanny squeezing into my chair wearing a navy blue hoodie and telling me to put on something warmer

Where i sit and read harry potter for hours, where we are all one again and when i open my eyes...poppy has sold the camper, nanny is buried with river rocks from lot 47, and we swear we won't go back without her

We were always taking scissors to our paper hearts—
Cutting shapes to let the light in,
Then throwing the scraps like confetti, though,
They fell more like rain.
We just wanted to feel something,
But now we're puppets without strings—
We spent so much time trying to get free,
We never dreamed of where we'd go,
Or if we'd go there together.
Now I'm tangled in your goodbyes and telephone wires;
There's a hole in my chest where yours used to touch.
I see your face when I look in the mirror,
As if I've forgotten whose shadow was sewn to the soles of my feet.
I carry you with me—maybe out of habit,
Maybe out of love.
To be honest, I can't tell them apart;
I don't think I ever could.
When you see the moon
Illuminate the fog,
Comforted by the creak of your porch swing,
Do you miss me?

A harbor town, just like this one, swept up in fog
the seagulls, ghosts emerging from the skies

the river glistens soft & wide,
the Cranes for now are sleeping giants

he kisses her, the anxious gun pressed tight
against his hand in his pocket

he is a dock worker
she is a seamstress

they're a black & white film
because technicolor here is impossible

he is you & she is me
we speak only in French

the kids on the block
will get you the next day.

One who sees through the fog clearly

How I tire of you and the looks you give me in the mirror
How I tire of bleary eyed sunny days  
(Like I can't see) sun thru smoke fog

Alone I wake, semi truck barreling down my street towards highway
Gray skies do nothing to muffle the noise in the street do nothing
About the metallic pulse in my head groaning dread like a 56k modem

My dowry for this disease of madness - my middle class inheritance
Her white wedding dress and my silymarin milk thistle distress
Equal  distance between us like 'we hardly knew ye'
But You, You were to be my wife

Where did you go, who is this woman
Eggshell grown gown olive skinned melanin beauty
How I tire of pretending to like the new you
Like the old me, he that used to be before
It got to me  - before the bottle bought and sold me
Tarnished ink blot
Instead of the other way around

Stopped the car, narrow country dirt road red
Backing up now rapidly as can go, in reverse, still too slow still
feels like too little too late, slow out of the gate as always (idiot)
No great escape from falling to saving grace
No night and day, just greater shades of gray

Damage done, iron wrought, frostbitten fingers failing me  
'Fate crusades against me'  
Yell paranoid eyeing empty white dusted bottle
Sleep paralysis nightmares of bedroom closing in prison cell
Loom over like human beast double lobectomy
Reptilian brain no higher function
Choke down tears of pure amygdala flight fear