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  • Writer's pictureCamp Goldston Publishing, LLC

Heavy and Full

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Heavy are the days

and full are the nights.

Full are the nights

filled with foggy ghosts

that whisper what used to be

like uneven cobblestones on Mobile Street

like guitar chords rambling down Court Street

like pool balls cracking and records scratching all the way down Tennessee

like street lamps turning on and dropping, flickering out

like neon and dawn mixed purple and blue in the morning.

Heavy are the days

and full are the nights.

Heavy are the days

on my shoulders, tangled in my hair

and heavy they sit/ and stare/ and sit/ and stare,

and try as I might, I can’t see my house from the top of

the Christian Book Store:Pharmacy:Masonic Temple.

But at night, I can see

lights cutting through me while I balance

on the ledge and wonder what it would feel like to jump.

Heavy are the days

and full are the nights.

Heavy are the nights,

and heavy are you in my mind tonight,

but as long as I feel as strong as I feel,

I will carry you as long as I can.

And I feel pretty strong

tonight. But if I am tired in the morning,

will you lay with me awhile

and breathe with me awhile

and let me remember?

Heavy are the days

and full are the nights.

And heavy will be the air

that takes me away to the land

we once dug holes to.

Holes filled with earthworms wriggling

wet with the earth that I’ll watch from my window

with no eyes to see the skyline of the cities

that fill the land where fortunes are not

printed on paper baked inside of cookies,

but instead trail out in smoky wisps from the nostrils of red dragons

that wriggle like earthworms through billions of people

throwing fireworks.

Heavy are the days

and full are the nights.

And heavy is the air

in the summer nights

wet with whiskey and full with a song

sung for each star.

I’m ready to go anywhere

I’m ready for to fade

into my own parade

cast your dancing spell my way

I’ll promise to go under it.

And heavy is the night

when the songs end

and the stars wink shut

and all we have left are each other

full of each other

full of grace and fearlessness.

And full I am

of you, tonight.

And strong I am

to carry you, tonight.

And heavy are you

in my mind, tonight.

And full is the night,


of ramblings and words and music and tears and fires and blues.

And heavy are all the days and nights,

and full is this life.

-Andy Thigpen

Andy is a Florence, Alabama native with a penchant for wandering. He is currently teaching English to children in Changchun, China.  He is the co-founder of ‘Boxcar Voices’, an open-mic poetry and storytelling group dedicated to showcasing works of writers and performers both local and abroad. Language and travel are the two loves of Andy’s life, and he is the happiest when chasing them.

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