Monday random

  • Those who know me well know that I have resisted getting a cell phone for all these years
  • except for a brief tryst with a flip phone between ’06-’08
  • I have a new friend who is quickly becoming like one of the family who says it is not safe for me not to have a phone with the cars I drive, old and rusting away as they are
  • I say it is a luxury
  • a nuisance
  • but she is right. One car is a ’94 and one is a ’99.
  • They make some of the same noises my knees make on stairs.
  • So that’s that.

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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

Conversations: (why) don’t you trust me

I was told to open up
I was asked to show my real face

/don’t you trust me yet/

(no. But I can’t tell you that. You might be dangerous.)

/what is the real you/

[what are you wearing] Really? That?

please, don’t.

/show me/

Lana del Rey is crooning about Summertime from the other room while I have clicked on a poet I never read before, reading about her grief. The two meet somewhere between rooms and I imagine them as performance art. I write something to that effect on Twitter. Ten minutes later I get embarrassed. I delete it.

I show you a picture of an animal in a trap.

/ I don’t get it/

Then why ask to see it? Why ask for transparency without a measure of mercy and understanding in your pockets?

/show me more/

You’re a sadist, aren’t you?

/don’t you trust me?/

(no)

[should I?]

I don’t know.


You, bewilder me (nt)

what you say
what you always say
never satisfied
hurting with you
sharing
what is mine is yours

and yours
is also mine
even the ugly
but let’s put
a bandaid on that
and some word salve

you are never satisfied
never satisfied
never satisfied
no contentment
in what your hands hold
always, you are looking, for
what is elusive

so I hunt for you
caring too much, she tells me
trying too hard to be the one, the hero
that carries home the ten point buck
only to be in your sights again
your one–your redemptor

is is possible
so she asks
for someone
with all my inherited good sense
to give up decades
for one glorious pedestal moment
when you see me golden

what you say
what you always say
never satisfied
hurting with you
sharing
what is mine is yours
and yours
is also mine
even the ugly
but let’s put
a bandaid on that
and some word salve

it was not accepted
anymore
this new kindness
she had learned
but she never felt guilty
about tossing handfuls into the air
like choice chocolates
generously
some were caught
and melted on waiting tongues
others trampled

I’m in pieces, Mary Ann

I read him, but
he does not read me
(anymore)
since I got sad and shredded
and stopping the fun
but that’s alright
can’t stay angry with the creep

Lost marbles we all
think about
many colors
that caught the sun
when parties were a good thing
and not this stuff it all down
stuff it down one more time

He came by
(coming by)
every time the gin got to him
he said I’m in pieces, Mary Ann
won’t you fix me fix me
tape me up one more time

I said how strange you come
(he always comes)
just when I am heading out
one more time just once more
the tape and the iodine
and just one kiss

Monday Random: thank you

The miracle of gratitude is that it shifts your perception to such an extent that it changes the world you see.
-Dr. Robert Holden

  • This week while boiling off some great broth for Thanksgiving gravy, I remembered that I used to write out a gratitude journal
  • I got the idea from an Oprah show in the 90’s, but I’m not sure if the idea came from Oprah or Iyanla Vanzant.
  • I learned a few things from both of them back then, but first, the journaling
  • Oprah suggested writing 5 things a day you are thankful for. They do not have to be big
  • What I learned from this exercise is that choosing to be grateful changed how I viewed the people in my life
  • It changed how I viewed God’s influence in my life
  • It made me less bitter
  • That one is huge

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Monday Random

  • I went to mail a letter in my building without looking in the mirror first.
  • Day by day, I am getting back to my normal self
  • Whatever normal is
  • Perhaps normal is what I feel like inside, without anyone else’s expectations
  • I would also try to erase some regrets, though they cannot really be forgotten, and add to our experiences, what makes us wiser
  • sadder and wiser
  • Today’s weather here is a good illustration of how I view my life right now

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Lying in a field of violets somewhere in Wisconsin contemplating my purpose

I wrote for my mother
I wrote for my child
back then, I wrote for my lover
and a friend
and I wrote for God.
Once under a lunar eclipse
I wrote for myself.
Are these the right answers?

I understand
that you have all the answers
you have said
they are already in my head
I write from my heart
for no one but myself
Is that the right answer?

I write for myself
I write to share
I write to contribute
to the common good
to the community of this village
to add my voice
Is that the right answer?

You told me to seek myself inside
I want to be cock-sure
to question why I can go silent
when he does not see you
see me
when he does not see us
I still put words in a daisy chain.
There is your answer–