Little bro

stevie
My little brother, not so little anymore, but still the sweetest boy ever

 

How come we say
that time passes too slowly?
when we all know
it slips out of our grip
way too fast–

I didn’t pay attention
while time has rambled on–
and I remember (don’t forget)
the old times (don’t forget)
I remember some good times
( they weren’t all bad)
and I remember some very bad times
(but they weren’t all bad)

Birthday’s just a day
and today it is your turn
to be man of the day
little boy with a deck of cards
and a magic wand, grown up
come on little brother
show me some magic
’cause I’m feeling tired–

Then let’s toast to the days coming
the ones we look forward to
and the ones that will lead to eternity–
there are many smiles left
daydreams of your reflections–
the golden faces looking up to you
for some good old days.

*

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
Luke 12:6-7 NIV

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Coupling as improv

I always thought I was
good at ad-libbing–
even in the midst of a tornado
ripping the seams of our house
while we slept;
I figured we’d get by
on rations

But when you told me no
it gave me a new resolve
and all the denials
did not lay me outright
like before
lying flat like a lizard for years
drinking from a puddle, of
my fears and your
disappointment

Are we a mystery or a thriller?
because much of what makes us
we
is not difficult to understand
regardless
of the storm coming
and are we not thrilled?
your hands shoved up my dress
remind me of green fields
every 3-leaf clover a let down

falling in love was easy
once we got inside–
getting out
took more work than we
could have imagined
doubt oozing around the windows
suspicion coating the walls
trying to read the future
in the dishwater–
always murky

wither (or not)

for the fourth time
in my time
I have watched him wither
and
whither or not he goest
he speaks of it
for hours
(days)
of litany
I no longer say
do not go
(he will not go)
and we will go on
happily
reading and saying
and doing
until he does
go

fireworks

last night’s dog day
in sweaty angry silence
melted into sweet morning
lime tea words
over cups, with a
steamy cover of regrets
and guitar strums balm

we cannot have it back
can we, that sweet
close smell of together
amidst shooting stars–
stepping out of our place
to face the world
again, with secrets

is it me on your mind
when this song plays–
1989 is a meteor
and all our hopes
have got to be enough
to shield us, if
you do not turn to salt

Green promises, and clouds

this oasis
green promises of June
that never miss
robins cardinals blackbirds
on all sides
in four part harmony
and behind
a four lane highway
just as inviting as
this breeze in my hair
welcome
after the hottest part of the day
is past
waiting for
the sherbet-y sunset
to see the moon
create diamonds on the water

What are you afraid of?

do anger and arousal
live in the same body at once
at war with the one
we can not live without
feeding off of one
needing us most

scavengers, all
vultures in our midst
how do we not fill
that white hot hole of need
walking away
from a sure thing

maybe because
we fear fire
even
animals fear
in the midst of
instinctual hunger

Kinder

I am in the kitchen writing out my life
Chopin is in the living room, urging me not to quit
the sadness (over breakfast) and a hurried car ride
heavy and burdensome

I don’t care (I said) because of course
I care more than life itself
but if I have to give up my life
in the process (I don’t care)

Then what is the purpose of living
this strangling, overarching plot
that no one would buy
is dancing in my last nerve

So it is like this. That you will
treat me kindly in the future
and I will continue to write my life
both wonderful and terrible, and
this is the contract I bid you sign

Mama

Sing me to sleep
Mama
The night is hard
press’d to give up
its joy
you went too soon
I want to hear you
tell stories
you used to tell

I knew you were happiest
Mama
when you were a little girl
traveling state to state
in a time when
girls didn’t give up dolls
so young
as now

For you I would have tea
Mama
so we could share
iced, with chips
laughs again over
silly thoughts
he never understood
but I always laughed

Laughs come at a premium now
Mama
like gasoline
and forgiveness
your unbounded joy
something I got for free
and tonight
I remember
and laugh

Come now and rest

trees and sky

The trees are welcoming me back
and the dust from which I was created
my flesh, failing me from too many nights
no sleep, too many words, not kept
and my lack of care has brought me here

The dirt says–come now, be still
rest here where no one will harm
I am soft and forgiving; I will not push back
when you lay over me seeking rest
your heart stilled by serial killers–

The ones we know, we all know
take your soul and they won’t let go
moving on to others, despite my best effort
to hold them here, but I tired, got so tired
leaves surround me, weaving a blanket

The sky watches, the clouds in their misty wisdom
call upon the Father to bless. I know
He sees all, he sees me, when I long for home
and home’s not best. Don’t fail me now
warm hay, soft fur. Take me back

where I came from, take me back
where I was born, this pure, safe place
bring me back to forest,
and dust and dirt
and home

*

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Matthew 11:28

*

endurance

the speed bumps were hell–every movement forward a vertical climb–each sodden word meant to comfort and encourage pulling her down hard–magnets in her shoes, sticking her feet solid to the road

tripping on cookie crumbles and gravy-laden track, she would never be Secretariat and not turn back, but hell if the memo-rees didn’t sprain her right ankle just as she was pulling ahead of the others

she saw the impact on their faces–after 2 decades of tsunami and degradation–lipstick and powder trying to pull it off–oh, the meanness–how they looked away, then back, then away

God’s provision, the hope in her pockets, kept her looking straight ahead, never at her feet, where even the mice were against her, the skunks conspiring, the rattlesnakes ever loud and insistent–she was not alone