Posts for June 10, 2017



When we were making love this evening, 
I was praising God, in my mind, 
that He has been healing us, giving us 
more chances to kiss each other,
laugh together, understand one another. 
When I am with you, looking into
your soft brown doe eyes, 
I know that God didn’t make a 
mistake with us. . . He is 
cleaning us up, making us bright, 
and He is happy to meet us
anywhere we are. 
We taste His enthusiasm, His essence, 
His presence when the blood of
our marriage is bold.  Together,
we are everything and He is Lord. 

(C) Edelweiss Meadows-Millstone


#1248E3 ( 18, 72, 227)

water isn’t blue
it isn’t
but think about it

looking at the pool my feet were in
I realized that the blue walls were made
by someone, somewhere, to try to more accurate
get at
the Platonic concept of a pool,
when viewed, just the right way; to get me
experientially equating
that crisp blue waves were inherit
when really
it was me, in the crisp clarity of the water
that was the pool
and the rest were just confines


Claw a Little

Oh baby bird, how I want to draw you 
close, run my fingers through your downy
inexperience, whisper low while I shove
you from a nest. You gotta learn some
reason to fight, to claw a little, to plant
yourself into the heat of this earth, the air
the time the moving spinning everythingness
of it. Of course it’s never been fair and
of course saying that doesn’t change a thing but
the yearning that lights your burning heart
is still as sweet and there to take. Snatch up
all the joy you can, give your whole body
to even the moments that scare you. That’s
how you find the thing inside that binds you
to this life, that forces the next step, and
the next, and the next until finally
the earth gently takes you deep within her,
like the lover you made of her
sinking your skin into the thick of her days.


at my age

when those I’ve known
are dying at my age

I find myself
reaching to remember

every spring wildflower
I want to keep living


Five Things I Don’t Want You to Know About Me (Part 1)

1) overboard: i’m fanatic about not smoking pot condemn everyone that does but when i came into possession of some really good chocolate edibles I spent a whole month stoned walking in the woods writing bad poetry trying to figure out where i was from my dead brother’s  topo maps and kinda lost contact with everyone even NPR which generally i listen to starting with morning edition all the way to the BBC from 12 to 3 a.m. except when they make me mad interviewing  david brooks and i ban the whole shebang from the house even prairie home companion and go on a reading binge and read all four of updike’s rabbit books in chorological order  until harry angstrom dies on a dilapidated basketball court and its spring anyway so i try to memorize all the entries in “ wildflowers of northern kentucky”  such as golden ragwort bishop’s cap foam flower early saxifrage but have a hard time picking them out in the field unless i bring my precious first edition signed copy with me which i hate to do so i go back in and memorize all 120 kentucky counties and the county seats in alphabetical order and then perform the real trick when company comes over and recite them backwards  


On My Block 1 or Eggs

it’s after 2am 
and the rooster that takes up
residence two yards over
is soapboxing again about
(what I’m guessing is) 
life for poultry in the hood 



Wander Out Loud

It’s been too long
Since I’ve made out in a parking lot
In front of perfect strangers, without a care
It’s been too long
Since I’ve heard someone lovingly  say
“What am I gonna do with you?”
after I let my thoughts
wander out loud
I’m glad I let you in
So I could feel this way once again
It’s been too long
Since I’ve wandered out loud
In the evening summer haze
I’m glad I met you once again
‘Cus when our lips meet
There is no time too long
And there’s nothing
I’d rather do with you


Requesting Sanctuary

I died in your arms

and you never even saw me float away.

Did you even feel the kiss that wisped your lips?

Or were you too busy,


please God,

forgive him.

Doug Self



Across the back fence
And through windows to grey walls
June’s butter-gold light.


Further from the End

In neon underarmor 
charging down the street,
no sidewalk, accesorized:
earbudded and microsparked
and electrolit.

Anything to push
away the patient truth.