it is seven a.m. and the house is gray
the rooms are gray and the ceiling
is gray, and when I look outside
the sky is gray

it does not look bright
or gay–today
in my head
it is dark like my coffee
but I am tranquil


there’s the rain
spring, you swashbuckler
wash me dripping wet
clean of winter, autumn, and
and expectations
down the drains
and soaking the lawns

I have
disappointed you

all the brilliant colours
in the rain
run off
to reveal doldrums
I have tried to be rid of
for decades

give me a chance

it takes longer than you
counted on
but being here
that is, as they say
is nine-tenths of some law
that could apply to us

because I am still here
and still yours

Raining for days

Are we fools–-
The rain falls and we avoid it
afraid to shine
in the middle of puddles
to be struck soaking clean
in May
still trying to get it up–
that umbrella
we are better off without

Are we off our heads–-
when we walk in opposite directions
despite the signs in front of us
mile after mile
not to mention the one
on which I smacked my head
and all those words
you knitted together
through the winter

Are we finished–-
the rain falls over us
where I tied you to the park bench
a gift so that just once
you could see inside my head
while I dance in the rain
tell me, when I untie your wrists
and your ankles, will you run–-
or will you be dancing with me
when the morning comes

cats and dogs

I have run out of things
to tell you
I have exhausted my small world
how many times
will someone read about crying
in the rain

until they give up
on the writer
and move on
to newer mountains
other worlds
that were created
in more legible
minds than my own

but it is raining, and
I am crying
and I do not want
you to see it
so I run outside
and lift hands and chin
to Heaven
while it pours

Monday Random: peace


  • Can our marriage survive doing laundry together at the laundromat? 27 years and the jury is still out
  • I am not fond of being micro-managed, and in my mid-50’s now, that is not likely to change
  • I am fairly verbal about this point
  • I have done my own laundry since my mother made me start doing all of it,  roughly age 15
  • We have a small store here that sells candy I liked as a kid but can’t find anywhere else anymore
  • Still, Chuckles and a Chunky are not a balanced breakfast, even with a cup of coffee
  • I’m guessing that the combination of sugar, caffeine, and hormones were not a good mix, but then he did have it coming
  • At least all he got was a little verbal angst. I heard a woman killed her husband once for biting his nails–

Continue reading “Monday Random: peace”

Circling the block

There is a strange tick inside
more than a heartbeat
a staccato beat
that proves I am alive
(seeking more than I can afford)

Wanting someone to hold me
seems normal to me, what
I thought was normal back then
bananas, fruit flies circling–
car outside, tires flat

But you, you circle the block
waiting for me
wondering when will she be
someone that can cross the street
without holding another hand

Don’t tell me it is not worth it
when every living person is trying
to get at that brass ring
mine for awhile (until
I found it was made of cake)

It fell apart during our first rain
My reign
make it durable for me
able to weather
whatever comes

Hold my hand
break my heart
drive me around the block
take me where you’re going
I’ll be quiet–I’ll be good

(I won’t ask for much)

only everything

(I won’t tug at you much)

only every day