Posts for June 9, 2018 (page 2)



It’s like creeping into a root cellar
Down tilted stairs
Like the lifting of a jaunty cap
But off
Like the old man on the corner
Who thinks you’re his wife, lost years ago.
The dirt is close
And if you’re quiet
Roots and worms
And digger burrowers whisper
In slow secrets.
It’s dark but
Not quite comfortable
But safe.
It seems safe.
The dim outline of the day above
Glows from the door
Winking like another man
Across another room
How many lifetimes ago was that?
You retreat into the close damp
Of a corner
And don’t know how to want to get out.



the Old Testament king stands
with his ivory leg planted

in the augered hole
where my heart used to beat

tosses his joyless pipe away
among the waves and pushes
me to drown in the brine

lets me up to breathe
when I’ve turned idolater
for his ounce of Spanish gold



we stepped from the coffee house
and walked west, toward the bookstore
our heels clicked in rhythm on the sidewalk
you were singing a song from that show
we saw last year in Minneapolis.

you paid no attention to the others,
strolling down the walk toward us.
your voice was soft and sweet.

you took my hand
and we swung our arms,
steady as a metronome.

we laughed and turned
into the doorstep of the bookstore–
the OPEN sign still hung on the door.
You stopped singing, looked at me,
and smiled.

All the stories in all the books
were right there,
in your touch.



Pregnant and filled with eager anticipation
   of all that is yet to be
We have desires and expectations
Hopes and dreams
Visions of the future
So much to share
So much to pass on
Lullabys and smiles
Books and poems and
Bedtime stories and prayers and

Oh yes – There will be a BABY!
He is one of the most important people in our lives
  we just haven’t met him yet


Slow Progress

Sloths climb up trees
with permanent smiles on their faces
like Sesame Street puppets
their movement is slow
almost robotic.  

Progress is slow
But we love it, the principal says.  

One sloth embraces
a younger one
and they rest,
their marble eyes slowly closing.  

He says, I just particularly like these students
because there’s so much untapped potential.  

The sloths doggy paddle through the river
on their leisurely journey.


Breakroom revelations at the end of a long shift

sometimes I wish everything was easier
to do
to say
to watch
to wait
to listen

but then I sit and stare
at this blank computer page
and fill it with words
as best I can.

and looking back on all that can be done
I can sense the joy in the pure mess of it


Six Dimes

We lived above the Baptist church.
A converted warehouse, small but home.
The front yard – concrete.
Hopscotch, jumprope, bicycles
Endured without shade.
Once a drunk walked by and gave 
Us change for icecream.
We hid the dimes in the
letters on the building.
It worried us to keep them.


Apocalypta in Motion

          the crowded bus ride home

         sister-in-law won’t nudge toward the window

         make room for her neighbor, and she is the sort

          would miss the bus by only three minutes
          curse her luck, sure that her end was nigh.



Tell me what you see
when your eyes are the entire earth

Are the colors of the clouds more vivid when you are lying next to me?

Tell me what you feel
when your hands birth life and adventure

When the sun is barely kissing the sky

Tell me what you see

and is it me?


Quicksand In The Lungs

Filter out the air
our divergent distractions
drowning on dry land

A breath or a death
collapsed lungs miss the meaning
quicksand traps the voice