1991

there were consequences, and
there was residue;
1991 was more than our hearts–
It was a shroud, a relic
something to be compressed
and worn around my neck

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Monday Random: dog days

  • It got mighty hot in the midwest of the states, and, for me, that means near Chicago
  • Oh, I am sure it was as hot in other places before and after our heat spell broke, but I guess it was smart of them, whoever ‘them’ is, to alert the public so they keep hydrated and check on loved ones who live alone in highrises
  • Does anyone remember this tragedy in 1995?
  • Still, I don’t want to be that guy, you know the one
  • The complainer.
  • Hot enough for you? Haha

Continue reading “Monday Random: dog days”

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

Monday random: silence

  • I am going to say this right out, right now: I am uncomfortable with complete silence
  • The reasons for this are varied, but most come from childhood and are fairly evident by poetry regarding the same. Rephrased: enough said about that.
  • This week I was under the weather, mostly I think from allowing myself to become rundown
  • Plus after a particularly rough patch, I followed it with a great deal of sugary snacks, which we all have come to know are poison.
  • I did not go to the doctor, but I did doctor myself with water, vegetables, fruit, vitamins, sunshine, and colloidal silver
  • and sleep, which I am still working on.
  • I just can’t get enough, but I am trying

Continue reading “Monday random: silence”

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

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

*

Monday random: family

  • There was a time I thought I had to get away from my family
  • months and years went by sometimes with only silence
  • forgiveness was a rough lesson to learn
  • There was a time I was so alone I couldn’t bear it, and realized that no matter what, my family would take me in

Continue reading “Monday random: family”

Precious

She cried during Star Wars
and he laughed at her
which made her cry more
turning to lay her cheek
against the cool glass
raindrops on the window
like diamonds

‘Isn’t it precious,’ she thought
lighting a cigarette
and hearing him cough
from across the room
but he’d never tell her to stop
crazy about her grumpy moods
in love with how she exhaled

“Maybe we should get away,” he said
getting up and walking over
kneeling at her feet, and
wrapping his arms about her legs
hearing her reply how she liked
things the way they were, and
feeling her fingers in his hair

 

Sleeping with the television on

Did I sleep?
I remember moments
when colors flew by
kaleidoscope
and merry-go-round
and you–-smiling
that must have been a dream

our fingers
formed a web between us
and you lifted your hand
to
brush hair off my forehead–-
shivering with the notion
of one hundred nights

I trampled you
and you asked for more
assumptions. predictions. affirmations.
and a storm
of peppermint schnapps
the tip of your tongue
lazy–
saying–
come on

and I was drawing you
into every waking hour
the way I saw you
each day
a new destination
to reach that sunset
with you still seeing me–-

Jesus, you are not a building

A good Friday psalm

You are not a building.
You are not songs, millennia old.
I am yours and you are mine
and that is my joy

Please don’t let me take that for granted
Or stop thanking you–
for you are not a building
or angry mobs, but you are there

You are not this hate-filled debate
but you see it–hear it–and know
what is true–not this circular argument
that breaks our hearts

You are not my race.
You are not my gender.
You are not my house.
But my body is your temple

I beg you to open my eyes
so I see all of the truth.
Is it enough to know that I need you?
I know myself

I am no better or worse
than anyone on my screen, or
on my street, or in that building
that you are not